


Past Imperfect

by DamsonDaForge



Category: Star Trek: The Next Generation
Genre: Assault, Coercion, Coersive Control, Control, DaForge Established Relationship, Date Rape, F/M, Gun play, Hostage Situations, Jealousy, M/M, Major Character Injury, Mind Control, Narcissism, Obsession, Past Affects the Present, Past Relationship(s), Restraint, Revenge, Threats of Rape/Non-Con, Threats of Violence, daforge - Freeform, past controlling relationship
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-10
Updated: 2021-01-19
Packaged: 2021-03-06 03:26:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 11
Words: 32,396
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25826632
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DamsonDaForge/pseuds/DamsonDaForge
Summary: A face from La Forge's past places Data and Geordi in peril.Flashbacks to Geordi's time at the Academy slowly reveal the present danger they are in.
Relationships: Data/Geordi La Forge, Geordi La Forge/Original Character(s)
Comments: 63
Kudos: 93





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Geordi's old Academy 'friend' is a controlling, bullying narcissist - he is not a very nice guy and he does and says some deeply violent and unpleasant things - he is misogynistic, ableist, aggressive and abusive. Please be aware of these things and the tags and warnings.

**Stardate 43612.4 – Chi Persei Cluster – Present Day**

“Captain,” said Worf from Tactical. “We have a distress signal coming in.”

“On screen,” Picard directed.

An elegant Hallurian female appeared. “Thank you for answering our call. Our ship has lost warp and impulse drive. We are not in immediate danger, but we have been pulled into the gravity well of a gas giant and our thrusters are not sufficient to lift us out.”

“Mr Data, analysis,” Picard requested.

“It is the _Delagro II_ , a Leviathan class bulk carrier. They have fallen into a highly elliptical orbit around the third planet of the Elnar system. Without engines, their orbit will decay over the coming week and they will ultimately be drawn into the atmosphere and be destroyed.”

“What’s your crew compliment, Captain? Do you have any injuries?”

“Seventeen and no injuries. We are however keen for your assistance.”

“Understood, we’re changing course to intercept. Conn, come about to one eight two mark three seven, warp seven. Engage. We should be with you in around three hours, Captain.”

“Appreciated, Nallek out.”

*~*~*~*

“I’m going to go backways, to Engineering, see how they’re getting along,” said O’Connor.

“If you want,” said his Captain with a distracted nod. Nallek was clearly eyeing up Riker and the Starfleet officer was doing likewise back at her.

With their bulk carrier going nowhere until the _Enterprise_ could get their engines back in action, there was very little for him to be doing on the bridge. He’d had a gutful of seeing his skipper throwing herself at whichever alien happened by and he certainly didn’t need to see her at it with a fellow human. What did this Riker have that he didn’t? They were a similar build, with similar colouring, so Nallek’s retort when O’Connor had tried it on that, ‘he wasn’t her type,’ was now clearly shown to be bullshit. 

He’d known it was bullshit right away anyway, Nallek didn’t have a type – as long as it was breathing she’d screw it. O’Connor had told himself some ego-consoling story that it was because she didn’t fuck underlings, but seeing her come on to Riker, also a first officer, and one who could pass for his own brother… That was some bitter pill to have to swallow on top of the _very_ nasty surprise when he’d seen who was beaming over from the _Enterprise._

Bryce O’Connor had seen the names on his readout as their Away Team had prepared to transport across. Commander William T Riker, First Officer. Lt. Commander Data, Second Officer. And then there he was, old Blinky himself. It had been one hell of a shock, seeing his name after all these years. He was a Lieutenant Commander now and Chief Engineer on the flagship no less. 

_Hasn’t he done well for himself?_ O’Connor thought with a sneer as he stepped onto the mag-lift platform.

La Forge had always been on the inside track, the conniving, back-stabbing, little bastard. His mother probably had to pull some strings, that was usually how these things went. If your mom’s a Starfleet captain, you had one hell of a head start. You’d have no fear about fucking over your friends, never have to worry about screwing up your career. No, La Forge had known all his life that his mommy had him covered.

When you’re nineteen years old, a seven year sentence feels like you’ve been condemned to a lifetime. The stockade was grey and regimented and his day was timed down to the very last minute. The only colour Bryce could see was the sky through the window of his cell. He’d stare for hours, watching the clouds slip by, seeing an occasional shuttle fly over and when one did he would burn evermore intensely with the rage and jealously that hardly ever left him.

He was wrongly imprisoned in this mind-numbing hole while La Forge and that bitch got to fly around the galaxy. That was supposed to have been his life. It was all that he had wanted since before he could remember and it had all been snatched away.

On his release, he’d been given a dishonourable discharge and then thrown out onto the street. He’d flown back to England, but his parents didn’t want to know. They had told him not to come, but where else was he supposed to go? They let him stay two nights, then his dad had told him to leave, that they’d had enough of making excuses and giving him third and fourth and fifth chances. It was as easy as that, apparently, to abandon your only child after seven years’ in jail.

Bryce had booked himself onto the first transport he could find. Why would he stay on this festering rock a day longer than he needed to? Fuck Starfleet, fuck his parents, fuck La Forge and fuck that bitch. You didn’t need to be Starfleet to go into space.

O’Connor signed on with a private haulage carrier who didn’t give a shit where he’d been for the last seven years. Crap wages, crap conditions and crap food, it was a far fucking cry from his image of himself as the dashing pilot of a Federation starship. But at least he was out here, in interstellar space, and he was a hundred times better qualified than the sad, lazy fuckers he had to share his shift with.

And so Bryce O’Connor had worked his way up and now he was First Officer on the bulk carrier _Delagro II_ , whipping down the length of the massive ship, on his way to the aft engine rooms and his unscheduled reunion with that bastard La Forge.

*~*~*~*

As the bulk carrier was such an immense vessel, Commander Riker had beamed to the bridge whilst Geordi and Data had beamed directly to the vast expanse of their Engineering Department.

The _Delagro II_ only had three engineers and they had clearly been struggling with the upkeep of the huge engines.

“I’ve never seen an arrangement quite like this,” Geordi was saying, his gaze playing over the transverse-mounted warp core.

“We’re so damn big, you could have stuck it in anyhow and it still would have fit,” said Pel, the head of section. His broad, flat face was surrounded by stubby spines which should have lent him a threatening aspect, but he seemed beaten down, exhausted by the vastness of his engines and the seriousness of the situation that he found himself in.

“I believe Commander La Forge is referring to the many… modifications that have been made in addition to the unusual mounting.”

Pel scratched his chin. “I just try and keep the juice flowing so when the Captain says go, we go.”

Geordi smiled widely. “I hear you on that,” he said and clapped his fellow Chief Engineer on the shoulder. “Where can I plug in my diagnostics?”

Geordi was carrying the portable unit on a shoulder strap and Pel indicated the other side of the room. Once his unit was connected, he and Pel began to analysis the engines whilst Data accessed the ship’s computer. He rapidly scanned the last several days’ files, from cargo manifests to log entries, from sensor data to engine performance logs, but he found nothing that would indicate why both warp and impulse drives had failed simultaneously. It was a curious problem. The bulk carrier’s systems were limited and so Data hoped that Geordi’s more sophisticated diagnostics would indicate a possible cause and therefore a solution.

Data joined them at Pel’s console.

“I have found nothing that would potentially serve as a cause for the dual failure,” he reported.

“Neither have we, Data,” said Geordi. “The diagnostic has just completed on the impulse drive, but we found nothing substantive that might cause a warp _and_ impulse failure. Pel, I would say that you’ll need to change out the port plasma converters sooner rather than later. I don’t think they’ll give you more than a few hundred hours before they fail.”

“Well, I’m gonna have to cross that bridge when I come to it.”

“If sourcing is an issue,” Geordi offered, “we can get a batch replicated to your specs.”

Before Pel could reply, a voice boomed out across the cavernous engine room.

“Fuck me! It’s Geordi La Forge!”

Data had heard the expression, ‘looked like he had seen a ghost,’ but he had not observed the phenomenon until now. Geordi’s head snapped up, his face dropped, his mouth fell open and his heart-rate increased forty-four per cent in less than two seconds.

“Oh my God,” was all his friend could utter.

“Do you two know each other?” Data asked. It was clear that they did, however politeness and circumstance required the asking of the question.

Geordi was staring at the newcomer, his mouth still open but something like a grimace was beginning to form. “Yeah, Data,” he said, grinding out each word, “we know each other.”

“We’re old friends,” said the newcomer. “Aren’t we, Blinky?”

Data’s attention ticked back to Geordi. He had never heard his friend referred to by such a nickname and from Geordi’s reaction, it was not one that he favoured, as his grimace had become a scowl. The newcomer’s strident yet friendly manner contrasted markedly with Geordi’s hostile reaction. It was a most unusual and fascinating interaction. 

“You’re not my friend,” said Geordi and he somewhat rudely turned his back on the man and went back to his analysis of the engines.

“Come on,” said the man. “We’re old Academy buddies. Don’t blank me, bro.”

Geordi remained steadfastly facing the console and did not reply. He had squared his shoulders, resolutely refusing to acknowledge the overture.

“I am sorry for Commander La Forge’s manner,” said Data. “He is very focused on resolving your engine issues.”

“That’s Blinky. Obsessed with his engines. As I recall, he actually preferred fiddling with machines over fiddling with a woman.”

Data raised his brows at that intimate comment. The gentleman must know Geordi very well to have confidence in raising such a potentially problematic subject so publicly.

“That’s part of his problem,” the man continued. “Jealousy. It can make you do the damnedest things.”

Geordi uncoupled his diagnostic device, slung it over his shoulder and took a circuitous route out of the huge engineering deck.

The newcomer looked off after Geordi, an odd look on his face that Data could not place. He decided he would follow Geordi to find out what was going on. It had been a most puzzling incident.

“If you will excuse me,” Data said. “I will see you at your Captain’s dinner tonight.”

“I’ll be there,” the man said.

Data hurried to catch Geordi, who had made it some considerable distance. As he approached, Geordi rounded on him.

“Don’t you ever, _ever_ apologise for me again! Do you hear me? Especially not to _that_ piece of shit!”

Geordi very rarely used curse words and it was most unusual to hear him use one so venomously. His level of agitation was also a rarity. He was quaking with anger.

“If I have overstepped a boundary, I apologise.”

Geordi’s shoulders lost a little of the tension they had been carrying.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry, Data. I shouldn’t be yelling at you.” He reached out and took Data’s hand. “It’s just… that… that guy is Bryce O’Connor.”

Data’s head jerked up and to the left, the name immediately bringing forth court documents and campus security reports, which Data reviewed in a moment.

“You are Cadet ‘A’,” Data said softly. The realisation was a disturbing one and he felt compelled to squeeze Geordi’s hand. “I did not know.”

“Why would you? Did you just access the files?”

“Yes, Geordi. I had of course heard of the case. My apologies, his somewhat bluff and friendly overtones indicated you were old acquaintances with a bantering nature.”

“It’s okay, it’s not your fault. He’s like that… he can get under your skin if you let him. I never thought I’d see him again.” Geordi shook his head. “I knew he’d got out a few years ago, but I was half way across the quadrant when that happened and so was Maya… ”

“Are you alright?”

Geordi had fallen silent.

“Will you watch my back while we’re over here?”

“Do you think you are in danger from him?”

“I don’t know. Probably not, but I don’t trust the guy.”

“If you think there is a threat, you should either beam back to the _Enterprise_ or I will have Lt. Worf assign a security team to you.”

“There’s too much for me to do here, but… do you think it would be an overreaction if we did get a couple of people with phasers over here?”

Data reflected for a moment on the seriousness of the case. “No, Geordi, I think it would be prudent.”

Geordi moved closer and laid his forehead against Data’s chest, their hands still entwined. Data wrapped his arms around his lover and held him.

“You be careful over here, too,” said Geordi, leaning back.

“I am always careful,” Data replied and he was gratified to see Geordi smile in return.

From a way away across the vast Engineering deck, Bryce couldn’t quite figure out what was going on between La Forge and his deeply weird Second Officer. He had to move quickly to keep the two of them in sight. And then he was astonished to see them holding hands, embracing and then _kissing_.

Wasn’t this an interesting addition to the mix? 

_Blinky, you were holding out on me all this time. I fucking knew it._

He would have to have a little look into this Lieutenant Commander Data. If he mattered to La Forge, well, then he mattered to Bryce.


	2. Chapter 2

October 2353 – Mogadishu, Earth – 13 years ago

Ariana’s first instinct was to put her head in her hands. She resisted, pasting a smile onto her face as her brother enthused over their uplink about his latest crush.

“Maya’s amazing, Ari,” Geordi was saying, “she’s only the second Cerosian to get into the Academy and she’s brilliant and beautiful and I can’t wait for you to meet her.”

“She sounds great,” said Ariana, already preparing herself for the inevitable crash that always followed her brother’s intense crushes.

She started to mentally plan for a visit to San Francisco in, oh, about six weeks, so she could be there in person to sweep up the pieces and start the slow process of sticking her brother’s broken heart back together. 

Even though he was almost two years older, Ariana had always felt protective towards her big brother. Perhaps that had been due to his disability in their early years, but after he’d gotten his first VISOR, she had still felt like he needed her guidance and support, only now it was in matters of the heart. He was hopelessly romantic and it felt like every first date he’d ever been on had been a date with ‘the one’ – like he _actually_ believed that was a thing. For someone as astonishingly bright as her brother, he was remarkably dense about relationships. 

He had actually had her banging her head on a desk in frustration once, back when they were both in high school, on some godforsaken planet their dad’s job had dragged them to. And four years later, here they were, both on Earth, and she was again listening to her brother talk after _one solitary date_ as though this girl was the love of his life. 

“Her species evolved from an antelope-like creature and she can run like the wind, Ari, you should see her. She has big, round eyes and these two elegant, triple-helixed horns that sweep back from her forehead in this beautiful arc. I’ve never seen anyone like her, I’ve never met anyone like her. She’s amazing.”

 _Yep, he’s gone_ , thought Ari. It was clear that he had utterly lost himself in this girl’s alien eyes.

That he’d fallen for a rare off-worlder wasn’t a surprise, given that he’d loved exploring the galaxy. He was very much a product of their upbringing and had inherited their parents’ wanderlust. Ari was just the opposite. She’d hated their peripatetic childhood and couldn’t wait to get to get back to Earth and settle down once and for all. With half the galaxy to choose from, she’d moved back to the city they’d been born in and she’d never been happier, amongst an extended family of aunties, uncles, cousins and grand- and great-grandparents. Both her mom and dad couldn’t wait to get away, but Ariana had always yearned to return home.

“And she has this accent,” Geordi was saying, his voice pitching lower. “The way she says my name…” He trailed off, a dreamy expression drifting over his face.

It was all Ari could do to stop herself from rolling her eyes. 

“It’s great that you’ve met someone and so soon,” she said, “but don’t get too excited, okay? It’s one date so far, so, you know, don’t start planning the wedding just yet?”

Geordi laughed. “I’m not!” he protested.

 _Yes you are!_ Ariana shouted in her head. _You bloody well are!_

“I know what you’re like,” she said. “You fall so fast and so hard, I don’t want you to keep getting hurt that same way.”

There was silence on the line as her brother sat back in his chair, his gaze downcast.

“Geordi?” Ariana said. “Don’t go quiet on me.”

“I’m not, but she’s different, Ari. When you meet her you’ll understand, I’m sure of it.”

Ariana gave a big, long, lung-emptying sigh. “I love you, but Geordi, come on,” she said.

“I like her, a lot. And I think she likes me,” he added, a little defensively.

She knew that he knew, deep down, he was doing what he always did. And wasn’t that the definition of insanity, doing the same thing over and over, expecting a different outcome? Ariana didn’t say that to him though, she could see that she’d upset him and she honestly didn’t want to hurt him. This was about trying to spare him pain, not cause it.

“Maybe I can come over,” Ariana said, offering an olive branch, “after your mid-terms? Hang out with you guys for week or so and you can prove me wrong?”

“That’d be nice,” her brother replied, accepting the offer in the manner it had been intended.

“I’ve gotta go. It’s nearly one am,” said Ariana. “And you probably have to go learn about warp cores and how to pilot things.”

“That is almost exactly what I have to do today,” he said, a smile spreading on his face. “Love you, sis.”

“Love you too, you massive idiot.” Ariana hit the disconnect button before her brother could respond, knowing he’d take the playfully delivered insult in the right way.

He was an idiot. But he was also sweet and optimistic and kind-hearted and ridiculously talented and driven. And maybe she was wrong. Maybe this girl from Ceros was everything Geordi said she was. She hoped so. Her brother deserved someone that wonderful.

*~*~*~*

Stardate 43612.8 – Elnar System, Chi Persei Cluster – Present Day

Geordi had temporarily beamed back over to the _Enterprise._ He was in the Captain’s Ready Room, having reported the inconclusive findings and that further investigations would be necessary.

“The plan is to get three Engineering teams over there tomorrow, one on warp, one on impulse, and one to install a batch of fusion reactors,” said Geordi.

“Fusion reactors?”

“If we can’t solve their engine problems pretty quickly, we’re going to need another way to get them out of that decaying orbit. We can’t tractor them out, they’re too massive for us to move, so we’re going to build them a basic, old fashion fusion drive. It won’t be pretty, but it will get them out of this mess if need be.”

“You’re not confident you can fix even their impulse engines?”

“This is a weird one, Captain and their engines are a nightmare. I don’t want to leave it till the last minute in case we can’t.”

“Understood. Commander Data indicated that there was a further matter that you wanted to discuss. That there is a potentially serious issue with a member of their crew.”

“Yes, sir, the… the first officer over there is Bryce O’Connor.”

Picard felt his expression become stony and still. The name was infamous. He turned to his access computer and tapped into the crew compliment listing that the _Delagro II_ had sent over. The first officer was listed only as one B. L. O’Connor.

“You were involved in that case?” Picard asked, more than concerned at this development.

“Yes, sir. I’m Cadet ‘A’.”

“I’m sorry, Geordi,” Picard said sincerely. “If we had known, we wouldn’t have sent you over without giving you a warning at the very least and the option to pull out of the Away Team.”

“There was no way for anyone to know. I do have to get back over there. There’s a tonne of work to do. But I would feel a hell of a lot better if we could hide a couple of Worf’s security people in amongst my engineers.”

“You think that subterfuge is necessary?” asked Picard.

“I don’t want to provoke him by going over there armed to the teeth, but what I know of him, it feels like a precaution I should be taking.”

“He completed his sentence,” Picard said, checking O’Connor’s record on his computer. “He completed his rehabilitation. He did show remorse.”

“Bryce—” Geordi cocked his head, searching for the right words. “He gets what he wants, however he can. If you counter him, he escalates. Maybe he just wanted to mess with my head and now he’s done. Maybe he’s truly reformed. I’m not sure I believe that, but maybe it’s true. But given what I know he can do, I don’t want to take that chance.”

“I trust your judgement. You know him better than anyone, what he might be capable of. If you feel this is necessary, I will support you. But the first sign of trouble, I want you to beam back over to the _Enterprise_ is that clear?”

“Aye, sir. Thank you, sir.”

“Make your arrangements and liaise with Mr Worf on your security detail. Be careful over there.”

“I will.”

“Dismissed, Mr La Forge.”

*~*~*~*

Bryce was in his quarters, dressing for dinner at their Captain’s reception for the _Enterprise_ staff. He’d got ready early because he wanted to carry out that little bit of research he’d promised himself.

He settled down with a scotch and keyed in his request to the computer.

Hauling half a billion metric tonnes of ore from shattered asteroids wasn’t the sexiest of assignments. They were off the main shipping routes and it could take months before they reached their destination. It meant he was out of the loop and out of touch – not that it bothered him – he’d felt little need to keep up with what went on within Starfleet, especially after it had treated him to seven years of imprisonment and then thrown him on the scrapheap.

So Bryce was somewhat shocked to realise the strange Mr Data _was_ so strange because he was, in fact, an android.

“Fuck me,” O’Connor said out loud, shaking his head.

It made sense, in a screwed up kind of way, that La Forge would be ‘in a relationship’ with a machine. Bryce laughed bitterly as a flare of jealous fire burned across his mind. Technologically impressive, personally insulting and potentially hugely problematic, O’Connor took in everything there was listed about Lieutenant Commander Data.

Then he jabbed the off button and the screen went dark. Bryce drained his drink and headed out, his thoughts churning.

Nallek had sat Riker next to her so she could, of course, continue flirting with him over dinner, but Riker, in contrast to this morning, seemed a little distracted. He supposed that was to be expected, given that Blinky would have gone and blabbed to his CO immediately.

O’Connor was sat between Pel and Crandle from Engineering and then La Forge and his pet robot completed the table. There was some little talk as the food was served and then a toast by Nallek to what would hopefully be a successful resolution to their current difficulties.

“How's it going with the engines, Blinky?” said O’Connor, forking a mouthful of spiced landerack into his mouth.

“We’ve got some work to do,” La Forge replied stiffly.

“Why does he call you that?” Nallek asked.

Bryce could have cheered. His Captain’s bluntness generally pissed him off, but this was perfect, just excellent. La Forge was squirming.

“It’s just a nickname,” his old _buddy_ said eventually, clearly hoping to shut down the topic.

“Oh?” said Nallek, her curiosity piqued. 

“Why don’t you show her?” Bryce suggested.

It was a little test, to see if Blinky still knew what the pecking order was.

La Forge had straightened in his chair. “I’d rather not.”

“Come on,” said Bryce, “don’t make such a song and dance about it. Show her.”

“No, okay?”

“Why ever not?” said Bryce, feigning ignorance for the benefit of the table.

Then Data interjected. Which was interesting.

“If Commander La Forge is not comfortable complying with your request, you should respect that.”

“Data’s right,” Riker added, his bearded face all square-jawed seriousness. “Let’s drop it, shall we?”

Bryce felt the eyes of the whole table on him – well except for La Forge’s, obviously – and it wasn’t a pleasant feeling, as the room seemed to have shifted and had fallen in behind the android and Riker. He felt it like a physical thing, like a thousand tiny knives stabbing outwards over his skin.

“Of course,” Bryce said, addressing La Forge directly, “if you’re _embarrassed…_ ”

The silvery band over La Forge’s eyes flashed as he turned to face O’Connor.

“I’m not embarrassed,” he said. “But I am done asking how high when you say jump.” Then he looked away and spoke to Pel. “Your flow rate for the power distribution was showing a discontinuity, but only following your stop off at Markab Station. Did you take on anything that might affect the wave guide regulators?”

Bryce felt his lip twitch, both from Blinky’s blatant slap in the face _and_ because he’d mentioned Markab Station.

“Commander La Forge and I have ruled out sixty-eight of the most common reasons for a warp and/or impulse drive failure,” said Data. “We are now exploring the more unlikely occurrences.”

This was an unexpected and unwelcome wrinkle in Bryce’s plans. Why couldn’t they just fix the fucking engines, let Bryce have his bit of fun and then fuck off? The chances that they’d find anything, given the vastness of the ship, were slim. However, he did not need a pissed off La Forge poking around with his fuck-toy android in tow. That was not a chance O’Connor was going take.

Pel was pondering the question. “We took on replicator supplies, a few spares and that was it, I think. Bryce, you’re the officer in charge of the manifest. Anything on there that could foul up my engines?”

Bryce shook his head in what he knew was a convincingly sincere manner. “Nothing. Like you said, it was our scheduled re-supply stop. Nothing out of the ordinary.”

“May we examine the cargo that was taken on board nonetheless?” the android asked. “There may be some contamination that has not yet been identified.”

“No problem,” said Bryce, and that was true.

The stores for the crew were held forward of all the bulk cargo units that made up the main body of the ship. They’d find nothing in their examinations.

Once dinner was over and the _Enterprise_ crew had returned to their ship, Bryce made his way to his rooms. He would wait up until his own crew turned in. Then he’d take a tour down into the dark heart of his ship and check up on his little side-venture.

*~*~*~*

Back in their quarters, Data was observing Geordi closely. He was concerned for his partner. Data noted his head dropped the moment the doors closed behind them and he now sank onto the sofa as if exhausted. His demeanour at dinner had also been atypical.

He stood nearby, unsure as to what Geordi needed. Data was relieved when Geordi reached out and took his hand.

“Sit with me?” asked Geordi.

“Of course,” Data replied, folding his body neatly to take the seat next to Geordi.

“I think I screwed up,” Geordi said, resting his head on Data’s shoulder.

“In what regard? Did you miss something during the engine analysis?”

“I’m talking about Bryce. Him needling me about the nickname. He’s trying to get back under my skin… I shouldn’t have bitten.” Geordi shook his head. “I shouldn’t have snapped back at him like that.”

“Do you believe he will react badly to your assertion?”

“In his head, I might have given him enough of an excuse.”

“It is difficult for me to understand how that interaction could be interpreted as provocative.”

“I know it is, but… you stood up for me.” Geordi squeezed his hand. “Watch yourself when you’re over there, okay?”

“I will, Geordi.”

“I mean it, seriously, don’t think he’s going to forget what happened.”

Before he could reply, the door chimed.

“Come in,” Data said.

Commander Riker entered and they both made to stand, but he indicated they should remain seated.

“At ease. I’m sorry to disturb you,” he said, “but I wanted to check you were okay, Geordi.”

“Thanks, Commander,” Geordi said. “Tell you the truth, I’ve had better days.”

“I can imagine… well, not exactly.”

Data observed Geordi and Commander Riker as they shared a wry smile.

“I appreciate you stopping by,” Geordi said. “I’m trying to get my head around it and yeah, it’s dredging up some stuff.”

“I’ve given Deanna an idea of what’s been going on,” said Riker, “so she’ll be in touch tomorrow, alright?”

“Thanks, but if we want to get them out of this gravity well, I’ve got at least five days of double shifts in front of me. I can’t spare the time.”

“Geordi,” Data said, “you should not neglect your mental health during this trying period.”

“The sooner we get them out of orbit, the sooner we get out of here. And believe me, putting a few dozen light years between me and Bryce will do wonders for my mental health.”

“I understand, however, you should try to find some time to discuss this with Counselor Troi.”

“I promise I’ll try, okay, Data?”

“And you’re sure, Geordi,” Commander Riker asked, “that you don’t want me to inform Captain Nallek what’s going on?”

Commander Riker had established that she knew of O'Connor's record. They had worked together for almost two years and she had no particular concerns, given his 'reformed' status. What she did not know, however, was that Geordi was not merely O'Connor's old Academy friend.

“I’m sure. If Bryce thought I'd gone over his head and was trying to get him fired, God knows what he’d do.”

“Geordi, it feels like we’re tip-toeing around this guy,” Riker said. “I don’t know, is that the right way to go about this?”

“You know what? No, I don’t know,” Geordi said, his voice rising in volume. “I don’t know there is a right way to deal with someone like Bryce. All I do know is last time, I got it wrong and two people I love got hurt. So forgive me if I am _tip-toeing_ around because I don’t want that to happen again!”

“Alright,” said Riker. “Alright. We’ll play it by ear. But if you feel like he’s starting something, the two of you beam back over here immediately.”

“Aye, sir,” said Geordi. “Sorry I yelled.”

“Yell all you like, Geordi,” Riker replied. “Just be safe. Goodnight.”

“G’night,” said Geordi.

“Good night, Commander,” said Data.

Once Commander Riker had left, Data began to urge Geordi to go to bed.

“You have had a difficult day and have a long week ahead of you. You should retire and get a full night of sleep.”

“Like that’s going to happen,” Geordi said and then he laughed, but it was not the usual good-humoured sound that Data was accustomed to. It had a harsh note to it which he found to be most unsettling.

“You need to rest. I should not need to impress upon you the importance of maintaining a healthy sleep cycle. Please, Geordi, go to bed.”

“I’m not going to win this one, am I?”

“As I am resolved on this matter, so do not think so, no.”

Geordi smiled and this was something that Data did recognise. It was categorised as _fond, warm, genuine, loving_ and Data was reassured by its appearance.

“Don’t be long, okay?” said Geordi, leaning over and kissing him before making his way to the bedroom.

“I will review a few items for tomorrow and be along presently.”

Once Geordi had retired, Data accessed the main computer and delved into the entirety of the O’Connor case files.


	3. Chapter 3

Friday, 23rd October 2353 – San Francisco, Earth – 13 years previously

Geordi and Maya had a matching free period on Friday mornings and had found their way to their ‘secret spot’ where they could share it in private. It was an old bench under a rambling buckeye tree, off campus in a quiet corner of a quiet park. It was perfect.

“Auntie Waris would approve,” said Geordi, breaking their kiss to look at this wonderful woman who was in his arms.

“Auntie Waris?” Maya said, her lilting Cerosian accent still sounding a little Scandinavian to Geordi’s ear. “I have not heard of this Auntie before. You have many?”

Family was very important on Ceros and the two of them had shared details and history all the way out to great-great-great grandparents on Geordi’s side and much farther back on Maya’s.

“Hundreds,” said Geordi, all seriousness.

Her big, dark eyes, cooler than the rest of her face, widened. “I did not know humans had such a big family. That is very many.”

Geordi couldn’t keep teasing her any longer and the grin he’d been holding in spread over his face. She could be adorably literal and sometimes it was just too much resist.

“It’s not really hundreds, Maya,” he confessed. Geordi reflected on his family’s fascination with his love-life (or lack thereof) with wry affection. “It just feels like it sometimes.”

Maya pulled her head back, a sweet little quirk. He’d noticed she did it when she was confused or puzzling something out. The tips of her long, elegant horns brushed the leaves of the lower branches and Geordi marvelled at her.

“I do not think I understand,” she said.

“They are _very_ invested in my romantic endeavours and when they’re all ganging up on me, it can feel like there are dozens more of them than there are.”

“Ah, and is Auntie Waris the leader of this ambush?”

Geordi smiled at her turn of phrase, somehow perfectly summing up how it had felt at those big family gatherings to be cornered by his pack of aunts and grandmas. They would descend on him _en masse_ , grabbing their rarity of chances to interrogate him in person.

“She is. Do you know what she would call this…?” Geordi broke away and kissed Maya just below her ear, “and this…” He moved his lips down her neck and then along her jaw. “And this…” He wrapped his arms around her, kissing her fully on the mouth as she kissed him back with all of her soft passion.

“What?” she said, looking at him intently. “What would she call this, Geordi?”

His stomach flipped, alive with a thousand butterflies. Maya had said his name and it did things to him. The way she said, it as if it began with a Y, not a G. And the way she rolled the R in the middle, with a little growl in the back of her throat? Oh _God_ , it made his mind melt and his groin ache with longing. _Yeorrrrrdi_. No one had ever said his name like that and no one had ever managed to have that effect on him by uttering one word.

“She’d call it _dhunkasho iyo hadane_ ,” he said, his voice a little husky with what she was unknowingly doing to him.

“I like those words,” said Maya, repeating them in her adorable accent. “And l like it means this.”

She leaned in and kissed him, her mouth and breath and hands hot against his skin. He kissed back hard, lost in the moment, lost in her lips and her caress and by the time they broke away they were both breathing hard.

Geordi rested his forehead against hers. “I have to go soon.”

“I know.” She wrapped her fingers around his palm.

He started to trace his thumb over the back of her hand, in between the dozen closely tessellated patches that covered the back of her hands. They were hard and flat and shaped like irregular polygons. To Geordi, again they looked dark as they were cooler than the rest of her body. They spread down her fingers and merged into her long, dark nails. Geordi wondered with a shiver, and not for the first time, what it would feel like to have them claw down his back in the throes of passion. Blood rushed to his face and to other parts and he shook himself. He had a class in less than half an hour and if he carried on like this, he was going to need a cold shower before he could dare enter the lecture hall.

As Maya began kissing him again, she closed her eyes, her hands leaving his to move over his chest and down his body. Although he had also closed his eyes, Geordi’s vision was a constant and behind Maya, in the hedges, he saw there was someone standing there.

He straightened a little in Maya’s embrace, but she just held him closer. Geordi didn’t want to spook her, but as the figure fully emerged, he realised with a sense of shock and alarm that it was Bryce. 

Feeling horribly violated, it was all Geordi could do to stop Maya gently. He didn’t want to offend her or have her turn around and have to share in the awful spectacle that was unfolding over her shoulder. Bryce was running his hands through the air, making an hourglass figure, hinting at the female form. He began to mime kissing it, sticking out his tongue, rolling it around and then he started thrusting his hips into his imaginary companion.

Geordi was desperate to keep Maya from looking around and so he held her head gently in one hand and talked quietly to her, saying that he needed to go now and they should start making their way back to campus. All the while, Bryce was smack bang in his field of view. His idiot roommate pointed at Maya and then made a circle with his forefinger and thumb, as if to say ‘perfect’, or ‘exquisite’ or ‘superb’. He then began to poke the index finger of his other hand rapidly in and out of that circle, obscenely miming intercourse.

Geordi stood up and very carefully guided Maya away from the vile antics. As he turned his back, his roommate was giving him the double thumbs up, a large, sharp smile carved onto Bryce’s face.

*~*~*~*

Stardate 43613.2 – Elnar System, Chi Persei Cluster – Present Day

There was a small army of Starfleet engineers gathered in the massive space of the engine room. Bryce was up on the high gantry, looking down from about fifty meters onto the crescent of gold-clad personnel. La Forge stood in the centre of them, giving some sort of briefing, directing his team and handing out orders. In control and in command, he had everything that should have been Bryce’s: respect, status, privilege, rank. 

From up here, Bryce couldn’t quite hear the detail of what he was saying, there was just the muted sound of his speech, dispersed within the vast space, a faint echo bouncing off the huge walls. Rage coiled around him and settled in his guts like barbed wire. He watched as La Forge clasped his handheld device and then he’d clearly dismissed them as the meeting began to break up. The crowd split into three roughly equal groups and they dispersed around the engineering deck like so many yellow ants.

No one could begrudge Bryce the intense loathing he felt. His liberty had been stolen away from him and his future taken along with it. He watched La Forge, strolling around the deck like he owned the place. Jealously, loathing and long-buried lust boiled through Bryce’s veins.

He was so high up, he could hide La Forge behind the width of his thumb. He imagined crushing him as if he were a bug, slamming down his hand and smearing him into the deck, snuffing him out of existence in an instant.

Bryce revelled in the fantasy for a few moments, imagining he had that gift of death in his fingertips. But he knew that something so quick, so swift and so merciful would be no pay back at all. Payback for seven years spent in a cell would deserve a far more… prolonged response.

Bryce was just indulging himself though, it wasn’t as if he was really going to kill La Forge.

Not unless he had to. And not unless he knew he’d get away with it.

Geordi felt like he was being watched. After the briefing concluded, he’d put it down to Harris and Yazik keeping eyeballs on him. Worf’s security detail had been chosen as they had a basic grasp of engineering, Yazik having completed her first year in that subject before transferring and Harris had always kept his hand in, having served as an Ensign at Utopia Planitia.

Still, Geordi kept looking over his shoulder, not quite able to shake the feeling. After a while, the stream of problems his team leaders were bringing him began to fill up his mind and he got drawn deeply into the day’s work.

Hours passed and progress, particularly with the installation of the fusion generators, was good. The warp team had the strip-down of the engine core underway and his impulse team were preparing to replace the drive manifolds.

It was late in the afternoon when Geordi finally had a second or two to step back and take stock. Good, hard, solid work always made him feel better and they had made a great start. Now his teams were stuck in and knew what they were doing, he could start to think again about what could have caused this strange double-engine failure.

Casting his gaze over the vast Engineering deck and then up, up into the massive space above his head, Geordi startled.

In the cool, dark rafters of the upper core there was an unmistakable infra-red heat source. Yellow-orange in his VISOR, it was certainly human, their patterns were unique. Then it waved at him and started the long climb down onto the deck.

Geordi wanted to back away. Knowing that Bryce had been up there, spying down on him sent chills through his bones, stirring at memories and humiliations he had long since tried to forget. He saw Harris and Yazik clock O’Connor’s approach and they both began to make to intercept. The plan was they had PADDs of queries they could ask Geordi about, keeping them in close contact without raising suspicion. They had hand phasers concealed in sleeve holsters and type II’s hidden in their engineering kits.

“Commander La Forge,” said Yazik, getting to Geordi about twenty seconds before Bryce.

She handed him the PADD and they discussed the inducer she’d been ‘working’ on. In the background, Geordi saw Harris drop to one knee and open his kit, ostensibly searching for a tool. In reality, he was keeping Bryce in his sights whilst he got his hands on the type II phaser.

As Bryce got closer, Geordi could see that he was smirking.

“Don’t let me interrupt,” O’Connor said.

“Excuse me a second, Ensign,” Geordi said, allowing Yazik to step back, but not away. Addressing Bryce he said, “Well?”

“Wondering how it’s going. Busy, busy bees, buzzing all over my ship. Have you found anything?”

“Not yet, Data’s chasing down some more possibilities. You’ll have my full report later tonight. If that’s all, I’m kind of busy.”

“Data. I’ve not seen him today. Is he over on the _Enterprise_?”

Bryce showing an interest in his lover spilled cold dread into his stomach and Geordi had to supress a shudder. 

“Yeah,” said Geordi. “He’s on the _Enterprise_.”

Bryce nodded and then clapped his hands once. “I’ll leave you to it then!”

As O’Connor turned on his heels and left, a frown folded onto Geordi’s brow. When Bryce had clapped, he’d seen something. A fleeting pulse of light had preceded the pressure wave the sound made in the air, looking like an expanding flash or spark that quickly faded. It had been so brief, Geordi hadn’t had time to register quite what it was.

He turned and looked hard at Bryce’s back, drilling up and down his VISOR’s range, until a flicker in that same energy range, though much, much weaker, became visible. It surrounded Bryce in a faint haze that Geordi could only just make out.

Pain stabbed into his temples and so he eased off, still not sure exactly what he’d seen.

“I saw something strange today,” Geordi said.

He was lying on the sofa with his VISOR off whilst Data pottered around.

“What was that?”

“There was some kind of energy residue on Bryce, but it wasn’t like anything I’ve ever seen before.”

“Are you able to describe it?”

“It was in the high EM bands, but it was incredibly diffuse, it was hardly there. He clapped his hands and it caused a kind off… percussive burst of light.”

“That is highly unusual. Were you able to get a tricorder reading?”

“Not directly, but I took a scan of where he’d been hiding—”

“Where he had been hiding?” Data sounded about as shocked as it was possible for him to be. “What have you not told me?”

 _Damn it!_ said Geordi to himself. “I’m sorry. I didn’t want to worry you.”

“It is ‘too late for that now’.”

Geordi sighed and gave up what he’d been holding back. “He’d been up on the high gantry, about fifty metres up, watching me. I don’t know how long for, probably a while.”

“I do not like this development.”

He felt Data sit down on the sofa next to him and Geordi reached out his hand. Data took it and they laced their fingers together.

“Neither do I, but it’s his ship. He can go where he likes. Yazik and Harris were on it in a second, I wasn’t in any danger.”

“You must not leave out details because you do not want to distress me. You cannot distress me.”

“I know, I’m sorry. I won’t do it again. I promise.”

“That is acceptable. You said you had taken a tricorder reading?”

“Yeah, there was that same faint residue but it wasn’t recognised. The tricorder is the one in my kit,” said Geordi, nodding in the vague direction of the table where he’d ditched his work things.

“I will begin an analysis tonight whilst you sleep and hope to have a result for you in the morning. Now, may I give you a neck massage, to help you relax before bed?”

“What did I do to deserve you?” Geordi said, his hands finding Data’s face, his fingers tracing over the smooth curves of his cheekbones and the sharp line of his jaw.

“Nothing,” Data replied. “The universe is non-deterministic in matters of fate.”

Geordi laughed. “So it’s just pure, dumb luck?”

“Yes,” said Data.

“Then I’m the luckiest man alive,” said Geordi and pulled Data into a long, deep kiss.


	4. Chapter 4

Stardate 43613.9 – Elnar System, Chi Persei Cluster – Present Day

Following the massage which Geordi described as having, ‘turned him into a puddle of goo,’ he had retired to bed. 

Data remained at his workstation, hopeful that Geordi would now be able to rest. He had not slept well the night before, Data having observed that his partner’s sleep had been fitful and broken. Whilst he monitored Geordi’s breathing, waiting to hear it deepen and slow, Data began to download the tricorder’s readings into the computer.

The recordings were indeed unusual and remarkably diffuse. There was little for the computer to work with, but after several hours, Data was able to narrow down the possibilities. Of those that remained, most were associated with either active stellar phenomena or highly radioactive materials, none of which seemed plausible. The _Enterprise_ should have detected any stellar outbursts and there were no substances aboard either ship which would give rise to that signature either. Correction, there were no _known_ substances aboard either ship.

Data checked on Geordi, who was now deeply asleep and then made his way to the Bridge.

Dr Crusher was in command and she greeted him warmly.

“Data! How are you?”

“I am well, Doctor, are you?”

“I’m good, thank you. What can I do for you?”

“Geordi has observed some unusual energy readings which I have been unable to account for. I would like to utilise the forward sensor array, as I understand it is not currently occupied.”

“It’s not, be my guest.”

“Thank you, Doctor.”

Data sat down at the aft station Science II and began to configure the sensors to the specific EM bands which Geordi had detected. He wanted to definitively rule out the stellar cluster as the source of the emissions. He then felt a hand on his shoulder and he looked up.

“Doctor?”

“Things have been a little quiet,” Dr Crusher explained, perching on the console next to him. “What is it you’re looking for?”

“I am not sure. There are several celestial phenomena which need to be excluded. The cluster we are currently exploring maybe the source. The _Delagro II_ has been traversing this sector for a number of weeks and may have picked up some residual radiation.”

“Is there any risk to the crew?”

“I do not believe so. However, I will know more once the sensors complete their sweep.”

Dr Crusher nodded but did not move away. Data surmised there was some additional topic that she might wish to discuss.

“Is there something I can do for you, Doctor?”

“I was wondering, how’s Geordi holding up?”

“It has been a difficult two days. He is angry, upset, unsettled, afraid. Bryce O’Connor has displayed some disturbing behaviours towards Geordi, yet he has done nothing that warrants a formal response or complaint. It is… difficult.”

“Tell him to come and see me if he needs something to help him sleep.”

“I have been trying to assist him in that regard,” Data replied.

Dr Crusher’s eyes widened. “Good,” she said and she patted Data on the shoulder. “Good for you.”

She then moved away and retook the Captain’s seat, allowing Data to commence the sensor sweep. The cluster was substantial and it would take the best part of the night to complete the survey for the _Delagro II’s_ recent flight path. As the first scans arrived in, Data began the analysis, searching for an echo of that diffuse signature amongst the vast influx of information.

At 0630 hours, Data returned to their quarters and found Geordi was dressed and ready to head over to the _Delagro II._

“Did you sleep well?” Data asked.

“Mmmhmm, I missed you though,” Geordi said, kissing him briefly on the mouth as he gathered his kit from around the room.

Analysing the kiss, Data replied, “I spent the night on a sensor sweep of the cluster.”

Geordi paused. “Did you find anything?”

“No, it does not appear that the signature you observed was due to the proximity of the stellar cluster.”

“Then what the hell is it?”

“Some additional research will be required. I will notify you of any findings.”

“Comm me anyway? It’ll be good to hear your voice while I’m over there.”

“Of course. Geordi?” Data said. “Have you eaten breakfast?”

There was the briefest of hesitations before he replied, “Yeah.”

“Geordi,” Data repeated, his partner’s pause before his single word reply confirming what Data already strongly suspected. “Black coffee and painkillers do not constitute ‘eating breakfast’. If your headache is making you nauseous, may I suggest oatmeal or scrambled eggs on plain toast?”

Geordi smiled at him, but he looked tired and it faded from his face quickly. “I feel pretty sick right now. I’ll try and get something later on.”

“Sickbay will be able to administer an anti-emetic, allowing you to eat something now.”

It was a conversation they had had on several occasions. Geordi wished to avoid becoming dependent on a cycle of painkillers, anti-sickness drugs and sleeping inducements, wishing to reserve the interventions, ‘for when he really needed them,’ otherwise he would, ‘be in Sickbay every few hours.’ Data was unsure as to how much of an exaggeration that was, designed as it was to shut down further discussions, but he did know the pain Geordi suffered was near-constant. He also knew, from conversations with Dr Crusher and Counselor Troi, that tension, stress and emotional upset would erode his ability to deal with the pain, causing it to worsen.

Geordi nodded. “I’ll stop by on my way and then grab something on the _Delagro._ ”

Based on their previous discussions, Data had anticipated that Geordi would argue the point and offer considerable resistance. That he had not was cause for some concern. However, Data did not feel he could challenge Geordi on it, given that he had just acquiesced to Data’s request.

“I am gratified to hear that. Be careful whilst you are over there.”

Geordi picked up his case of equipment and gave Data a kiss goodbye and a one-armed hug which lasted 78.6% longer than usual.

“See you tonight,” said Geordi as he exited their quarters. “I love you.”

*~*~*~*

Friday, 30th October 2353 – Mogadishu, Earth – 13 years previously

“I was thinking,” Geordi was saying over the comm link, “they observe the Thanksgiving holiday here. It’s in late November and a four-day weekend. I was thinking of taking Maya to Rome.”

Her brother was practically bouncing out of his chair and before Ariana could scrabble a response that wasn’t, _‘Oh, for God’s sake,’_ or a variation thereof, he was off again.

“Oh, Venice!” he practically yelped. “Maybe Venice or Rome. Or Paris! That would be perfect. What do you think? Or is Paris too cold in November?”

“Geordi, calm down, you’re babbling.”

He laughed and it was bright and musical and beautiful to hear, but honestly, Ariana needed to get past this exuberance and make him listen.

“I’m just excited,” he said.

“I know, you’re talking a mile a minute and you can’t sit still. You keep bobbing out of the frame.”

“Sorry, sis.” He settled down and fixed a very serious look on his face, which he was able to maintain for about two seconds before that smile of his broke cover and beamed out at her from across the other side of the world.

He’d started seeing Maya around the middle of October, so the end of November would put the relationship right on that six-week mark Ari had pencilled into her head. For it all to go horribly wrong while he was on a romantic break in Europe would be a new nadir, even for Geordi.

Why did he do this? We did he have to build everything up so damn high, so damn fast and have everything so damn perfect? When it all came crashing down, it just meant there was so much more carnage to have to clear up.

“Maybe hold off deciding for now,” Ariana said, an idea emerging that might mean she could cool his jets without having to metaphorically throw a bucket of cold water over him.

“Why?” he asked, suddenly sounding wary.

“Well, I’m coming over in a few weeks. When I meet her, I might have a thought about which she might like best – I could quietly sound her out for you.” _Or quietly steer you away from a disaster_ , she thought.

“Yeah,” Geordi said, warming to the idea. “It wouldn’t be so obvious coming from you. But don’t spoil it, okay? I want it to be a surprise.”

“I’ll be discretion itself. I’ll sort out some dates and let you know.”

Friday, 30th October 2353 – San Francisco, Earth

After they’d said their goodbyes, Geordi terminated the link and felt great. It sounded like Ariana was finally coming around to his point of view, if she was willing to help with the big surprise he was planning for Maya.

“Who was _that!_ ” a voice exclaimed from behind him.

Bryce had just got out of the shower and, towel around his waist, his eyes were fixed on the now-blank comm screen.

“My sister,” Geordi replied.

“Fucking hell, she’s hot. Vol- _canic_. Nice one, mate!”

His roommate’s reputation was a disgrace. The number of times Geordi had got back to their rooms and found the soccer scarf tied around the door knob was ridiculous – Bryce’s code for _“I’m fucking so fuck off.”_ He’d had to crash out on friends’ sofas numerous times, as Bryce’s sessions could last all night. 

“Don’t letch on my sister, Bryce,” said Geordi, feeling queasy at the prospect. “It’s gross.”

“It’s a compliment,” Bryce said, stilling his gaze and drilling it into Geordi. “You should take it as a compliment. That I’d fuck the girl-version of you.”

“Oh my God!” Geordi cried, repulsed on about a thousand different levels simultaneously. 

“Don’t pretend you wouldn’t,” Bryce grinned. “You’d fuck me in a heartbeat.”

“No, Bryce. I kind of want more from a relationship than to be a notch on someone’s bedpost.”

“Loosen up for _fuck’s_ sake,” Bryce said, suddenly vicious.

“I’m good, thanks,” said Geordi, trying for casual and missing by a mile. He was still not anywhere near used to Bryce’s sudden swerves into aggression.

“You might enjoy it, if you took that control rod from out of your arse.” Bryce grabbed his crotch through the towel. “There’d be room for something else up there then.”

Geordi had had enough. He gathered up the PADDs he needed and headed out.

“Prissy, preppy little prick!” Bryce yelled after him.

Geordi put his head down and walked faster, hoping that in a few hours, Bryce would have calmed down.

*~*~*~*

The next day, Geordi was in the library. A lot of the locals were excited it was Halloween, but having grown up on half a dozen planets that weren’t Earth, he wasn’t entirely sure what the fuss was about. He’d retreated to the library, his head swimming with warp field equations, when he got the sense someone was standing over him. He looked up and Bryce was there, holding a paper bag towards him.

“Sorry, mate,” Bryce said and offered Geordi the bag.

Geordi took it and when he opened it, the warm scent of cinnamon swirls and hot coffee filled his senses.

“My favourite,” said Geordi, then added dryly, “you shouldn’t have.”

“Yeah, well, I had a shit day yesterday and you got both barrels, so you know, peace offering.”

Geordi felt a little awkward. “Thanks, I appreciate that, but you didn’t have to get me anything.” 

“Calm down. I just said, ‘cinnamon swirls,’ at the replicator. It’s not like I fucking baked them myself.”

Geordi started to laugh and then so did Bryce, earning them both a very stern, “Shhhh!” from the cadet across the way.

“Who do you think I am? Your grandma?” Bryce continued, riffing on his last comment and ignoring the guy who had shushed them. “If you’re picturing me in a pinny, covered in flour, holding onto my big, long rolling pin, that’s your own filthy fantasy.”

“I am genuinely not,” Geordi assured him.

“Will you two shut up or go somewhere else?” the cadet on the other table snapped.

“Go somewhere else?” said Bryce, glaring at the cadet as if he couldn’t believe someone had just spoken to him like that.

Smoothing things over, Geordi said, “Yeah, let’s go. We can’t eat these in here.”

The smell of the pastries and coffee alone was enough to make him want to ditch his research for the moment, so they wandered outside, found a bench and kicked back.

“What was so bad about yesterday?” Geordi asked, the warm glow of cinnamon and coffee enough to fend off the cool breeze that was blowing in from the bay.

“Davison. Said if I don’t improve before the end of the semester, she’s kicking me off the programme.”

“Damn, Bryce. I’m sorry.”

Geordi knew how much getting onto the pilots’ programme had meant to Bryce – it was the reason he’d joined up in the first place: he wanted to fly. But he had been struggling. From being near the top of his preparatory classes back in England, Bryce was consistently at or near the bottom of their freshman intake.

“I want to ask you something,” Bryce said, his eyes fixed on Geordi’s VISOR.

“What is it? I’ll help if I can.”

“You’re top three, consistently. I want to know if you’ll let me have your next batch of practice flights.”

Actual hours at the controls of those single-seater training ships were like gold-dust. They were scrapped over and traded for and lost in bets, which had never made any sense to Geordi. He’d hung on to his allocation as though his life depended on it but, like everyone else, he was always desperately on the look out for more.

Geordi’s mouth fell open and for a second he couldn’t speak. What Bryce was asking for was out of the question.

“You can’t ask me to give those up!”

“You don’t need the practice.”

“Yeah, I do! I need as many hours as I can get, everybody does.”

Bryce nodded to himself. “So you can be top of the class, right? That matters to you more?”

“More than what?”

“You’d see me kicked out ‘cause you want to be top dog?”

“It’s not about that.”

“Bullshit.”

“It’s about… being the best I can be, whatever that is.”

“Lucky for you then. That you’re up there mixing it with Kaur and Qin. Happy fucking days.”

Geordi, Narinderjit and Xiang had been out ahead of their class since day one. It was clear the three of them had an edge of over the rest of their intake, but the gap had been closing.

“I was thinking,” said Bryce, “how come the three of you are so damn good anyway? Then I twigged what it was. All three of you were Starfleet brats and you were the first batch of them who were allowed on starships.”

“What has that got to do with anything?”

“While the rest of us were flying toys around our bedrooms, you three got to play on the real thing. You’re telling me your mum never let you mess around on a shuttle?”

Geordi swallowed. She had done, dozens, maybe hundreds of times. Always grounded in the hanger, she’d take him through the controls and they’d play for hours at the decoupled consoles until he knew them backwards, until he knew them with his VISOR off, until she was certain he could have flown the thing out of there at eleven years old.

“Yeah, I got to play around,” Geordi said, defensive, feeling like he suddenly had to justify a whole chunk of his upbringing. 

“I checked,” said Bryce.

Geordi felt guilt and unease. “Checked what?” he replied.

“Your mum’s last ship, the one you were on with her. It had a holodeck. Not as good as the ones we get now, but one of the first ones in the fleet. And that’s a fuck of a lot better than bugger all, which is what I had to practice on.”

There wasn’t any point denying it.

“And?” said Geordi, prodding Bryce to deliver his _coup de grace_.

“How many hours?”

“I don’t know, two or three hours a week.” It had been his own and his mother’s allocation plus whatever else had been available.

“For two and a half years?” Bryce asked.

Geordi nodded.

“That’s hundreds of hours. No fucking wonder and you _still_ want more?”

“Those don’t count for anything here. I still have to log the required flight time.”

“So you’re saying no.” Bryce threw his half-eaten swirl back into the bag.

“I’m saying… we can try and work something out. The simulators—”

“The holodecks and simulators are all booked out till Spring break. I’ll be junked long before then.”

“Some of those bookings are mine,” said Geordi.

Bryce snorted. “Of _course_ they are,” he muttered to himself.

“If you want, I could release a few and you can grab them.”

“How many is a few?”

“Four or five.” He really couldn’t afford to give up any more slots, hell, he probably couldn’t afford to give up these ones, if he was being honest. It was almost half of his ground-schedule for the next eight weeks.

“I’ll take them,” said Bryce, standing up. “Tell me when and we’ll sort it out.”

Geordi watched as Bryce walked off. 

Helping a friend. It shouldn’t make ones flesh creep, should it? But there was something about what had just happened that made Geordi want to shudder. 


	5. Chapter 5

Stardate 43614.3 – Elnar System, Chi Persei Cluster – Present Day

Data had an appointment before his shift on the Bridge began.

“Hello, Data,” Counselor Troi said. “Sit down.”

“Thank you. I am concerned about Geordi.”

“I know you are, Data. I am too.”

“Has he made an appointment to see you yet, Counselor?”

“No, so I’m glad that you’ve come to see me. I might need you to twist his arm a little.”

“I do not wish to have to compel him to attend. He is coping with enough stressors without my adding to them.”

She smiled softly at him. “I wasn’t thinking of having you drag him here by his heels.”

“Neither was I, Counselor.”

“If you can try to get him to make some time in the next day or so, I think it would help alleviate some of those stressors. But you’re right, Data, don’t pressure him. That is the last thing he needs right now. Mention that you came to see me and see what he says, a little gentle persuasion might be the push he needs.”

“I will discuss it with him tonight. May I also raise the subject of Bryce O’Connor?”

Data noticed Deanna’s posture change from relaxed and open to upright and stiff. “What do you want to know?”

“His pathology would seem to have precluded him from gaining a place at the Academy. And yet he was granted that place with no flags raised on his file. I am curious as to how that could have happened.”

“It is true that his psychological profile should have rung alarm bells. I have reviewed it and the original profile shows certain tendencies, but nothing that would have given a clue as to what he was capable of. Some of those traits, that in hindsight were problematic, can be seen in a positive light, he is cool under pressure, thinks on his feet, is driven and is highly motivated to achieve his goals at almost any cost. Those attributes could have made for a very fine officer, if they were able to be moulded.”

“Still, his indifference to the suffering of others, the way he used and discarded people as if they were tools, the way he indulged his needs and urges regardless should have been detected. I was not able to access the full psychological reports from the trial and many of the post-incident reports have significant redactions. Are you able to offer any insight, Counselor?”

“There are techniques that can be employed to… to not exactly fool the tests but that can manipulate them to a degree. Some people have a natural ability and if he knew that he was vulnerable to failing that test, I think he would have done whatever it took to make sure that he passed.”

“What are you intimating?”

“There are a number of ways. He might have used drugs to mask his responses. If he repeated the test over and over, and I mean hundreds of times, it would help to dampen down some of those more extreme reactions. It’s less likely but he _could_ have had an interaction with a telepath, to bolster the positive traits and mollify the negative. But this is all speculation. I do know that things were toughened up at both the Academy and at Starfleet, markedly as a result. Those psychotronic stability tests were brought in as a direct result of this case.”

“In your opinion, does Bryce O’Connor still pose a risk to Commander La Forge?”

Deanna appeared conflicted. “All of the treatments and counselling that he took part in were completed successfully. All the reports say that he has reformed, that he is remorseful and comprehends what he did was wrong.”

“However?”

“I think you were right to station those security personnel with Geordi. Reading O’Connor’s file, it chills me and I’m not sure how far a leopard, a true predator, can really change their spots.”

“Thank you, Counselor. I will endeavour to persuade Geordi to arrange an appointment.”

He left for his shift on the Bridge, Counselor Troi’s insight and intuition chiming unsettlingly with his own research and findings. 

The access ladders to the _Delagro II’s_ equivalent of Jeffries Tubes were epic climbs. It had taken Geordi almost five minutes to make his way from the impulse drive’s main plasma transfer relay. He glanced down as he approached the base of the shaft. Bryce was standing there. His arms were folded and his eyes were drilling up into Geordi.

His heart was already beating a little hard from the climb, but seeing Bryce down there, blocking his exit, made it thump that much harder. Geordi stepped off the last rung of the ladder and, doing his best to not show how rattled he was, he turned towards Bryce. The confined space at the bottom of the access shaft meant O’Connor was less than two metres away, lounging in the doorway.

“Would you move, please?” Geordi said.

Bryce looked Geordi up and down. “Are you going to make me?”

“Move, please.”

“Lay a hand on me,” Bryce said.

“Move out of my way,” Geordi said again.

“Go on, _touch me Geordi_ ,” Bryce mocked.

“Fuck you,” La Forge spat. He knew Bryce was deliberately trying to provoke him, homing in on words and phrases Bryce knew would be like raking his nails down raw nerves.

Smirking, Bryce looked over his shoulder. “Here we go. Ensign Whatsit to the rescue.”

Jack Harris appeared behind O’Connor. “Sir,” he said to Geordi. “I need your input on the results of this diagnostic.”

“Piss off, gorgeous,” Bryce said to Harris. “I was talking to him first.”

“Commander,” said Harris, ignoring Bryce. “I really need you to look over these results.”

“Really, really?” Bryce asked, still standing between the two of them.

Harris put his hand on Bryce’s shoulder.

It was the firm hand of a security officer unused to having their demands disregarded. Geordi froze. Bryce twisted his body towards Harris, arms uncrossing, fists clenched. 

“I said, _piss_ _off_ ,” Bryce growled.

Geordi took that instant, when Bryce was turned away, to give Harris a very firm shake of his head, a definitive, ‘No,’ signal. Escalating this into a physical confrontation wouldn’t lead anywhere good. Harris backed off a couple of steps and it looked for all the world like Bryce’s intimidation tactics had worked.

“Are you going to stand there all day?” Geordi asked. “Move, Bryce. I don’t have time for this.”

“Touchy,” said Bryce and then he pouted, “in all the wrong ways.”

Then he pushed himself away from the door and stood aside. As Geordi exited the access shaft, Bryce looked at Harris, who was a few paces away with eyes on O’Connor, and then he looked back at Geordi. A slow, smug smile spread onto his face.

Fixing Geordi with that penetrating stare of his, Bryce wandered off, pointedly whistling a tune that Geordi couldn’t quite place.

“Sir?” said Harris. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” said Geordi, lying through his teeth.

“That guy is trouble with a capital T. Sir, you should have let me drop him.”

Geordi shook his head. “Just keep doing what you’re doing. We’ll be out of here in a couple of days, so let’s try and keep a lid on this, alright?”

After another epic, uncomfortable day, Geordi transported back to the _Enterprise_.

Food, shower, sleep.

He was hungry, dirty and tired and as he got to their quarters, Data was there to greet him with a hug and a kiss and a hot meal on the table.

His spirits soared and he sat down to his meal, but before he could take one mouthful, his communicator chirped.

“Worf to Commander La Forge.”

Geordi laid down his fork and tapped his comm badge. “Go ahead.”

“May I meet with you now, sir? If it is not too late an hour.”

“No, that’s fine. Do you want to stop by my quarters?”

“I will be there presently.”

He managed to eat a few forkfuls before Worf arrived.

“My apologies,” Worf said. “I will return when you have finished your meal.”

“Don’t worry about it. What did you want to talk about?”

“I have received Ensign Harris’ report on today’s incident and wish to discuss options.”

“What incident?” Data asked, his golden gaze coming to rest heavily on Geordi.

Before Geordi could reply, Worf began to recount the details.

“O’Connor obstructed Commander La Forge, preventing him from exiting the access shaft to the impulse engines. Ensign Harris’ threat assessment meant he felt compelled to intervene.”

“Geordi,” Data said his voice a little sharp, “you had agreed to tell me of all occurrences.”

“I just got through the door, Data. Give me a chance.”

“You could have raised me or Commander Data on the comm system at the time,” Worf said.

“Are you tag-teaming me?” Geordi asked, exasperated. He was tired and irritated and stressed and honestly, he could do without this.

Data looked at Worf and the two of them inclined their heads.

“In essence,” Data confirmed. “I apologise.”

“As do I,” said Worf. “However, I do not believe that is it wise for you to continue working on the _Delagro II_. My official recommendation is that you now supervise from the _Enterprise_ and allow your team-leaders to take direct oversight of the works.”

“Things have progressed well, Geordi. I believe that you could now run the operation from Engineering.”

“I cannot order you to comply…” said Worf.

“But if I don’t, you’ll bump it up the chain to someone who can,” said Geordi, his gaze shifting from Worf to settle significantly on Data.

Worf ground his teeth, at least having the decency to look a little awkward. “As Ops Manager and Second Officer, Commander Data is my immediate superior.”

 _And mine,_ thought Geordi. He was bone tired and just about done with all of this crap.

“You’d no doubt approve this?” he said to Data, knowing he was beaten.

“It is a prudent course of action. Should it transpire that events on the _Delagro II_ require your physical presence, we can re-assess the situation should that arise.”

“Fine.”

That single-word, terse response made Data twitch.

“It does not sound like you think that it is fine,” Data said.

“I don’t like ducking out of a job half-done and I don’t like feeling as though Bryce has won.” Geordi shrugged but it turned into a shudder.

“If you do not play, he cannot win,” said Data.

“I agree,” said Worf. “There is no dishonour in refusing to participate in a rigged battle.”

Geordi took a deep breath in. “Good to know,” he said.

“Was there anything else, Lieutenant?” Data asked.

“Ensign Harris said that O’Connor concluded the interaction by pointedly whistling a tune. Does that have any significance to you, Commander?”

“I don’t think so. I vaguely recognised it, but can’t say what it was. Bryce looked pretty smug, though, when he walked away.”

“Yes,” said Worf. “Ensign Harris said the same thing.”

“Are you able to replicate the tune, Geordi?” Data asked.

Geordi whistled the tune that Bryce had sauntered off to. It was something really old, a little haunting, a little sad, and the strangeness of it, echoing off the vast walls of the engineering deck after that tense confrontation had been jarring to say the least.

Data completed his check of his internal database. “I believe that is _Me and My Shadow_. A composition popular in the music halls of England in the mid-twentieth century. It became a standard and was later recorded by such notable names as Judy Garland, Perry Como and more recently Yellah M’bedi.”

“I do not know who they are,” said Worf.

“I do not believe that the recording artists or the lyrical content is what is significant.”

Geordi looked up at Data. “You think he’s clocked the security detail.”

“That is a valid hypothesis. If your earlier analysis of his behaviour was correct, I feel this only strengthens the case for your remaining on the _Enterprise_.”

“Okay, I’ll do the briefing from Engineering and then see how it goes with me over here and them over there.”

“This is the prudent course of action,” Worf said. “I will leave you to your meal. Commanders.”

Once Worf had left, Geordi listlessly ate the rest of his cold dinner. He _hated_ the feeling of being chased off his job by Bryce, but he had to admit there was a massive sense of relief in not having to face him again.

After showering, he crawled into bed and sank into the soft, cool covers. With his VISOR on the bedside table, he heard Data approach and then felt the mattress shift as he lay next to him.

“You are not yet asleep?” Data asked.

“No, not yet.” Geordi rolled over and held Data tightly. The weight of him, his solidity and his steadfastness was something Geordi wanted to feel in his arms.

“Have you booked an appointment with Counselor Troi yet?”

Geordi dropped his head forward and it rested heavily on Data’s chest.

“Not now, okay?”

“It is just that now you will be stationed on the _Enterprise,_ there should be ample time for you to discuss matters with her.”

After being manoeuvred between Data and Worf, here he was, now caught in a pincer movement by Deanna and Data.

“What chance have I got?” Geordi murmured to himself.

“I do not understand.”

“Half the senior staff are ganging up on me. What chance have I got?”

“What chance would you like?”

“I don’t know. The chance for me to catch my breath, to stop my head spinning, to try to get a handle on all this?”

“We should only like to ensure that you do not have to do those things alone. We are here for you. I am here for you.”

Geordi, tired, stressed and upset, suddenly could not trust himself to speak. He pulled Data closer, holding him tighter and tighter until at last the threatening tears subsided.

*~*~*~*

Wednesday, 4th November 2353 – San Francisco, Earth – 13 years previously

Narinder came tearing across the mess hall towards Geordi. Her heart rate was elevated, even for someone who’d been running and her blood pressure was way up.

“You haven’t heard, have you?” she panted, practically crashing into Geordi to stop herself.

He’d just taken a massive mouthful of food.

“Heard what?” he manage to say around the huge glob of lasagne he’d shovelled in.

“Ah! I knew it!” she said, drumming her hands on his shoulder and practically cackling with delight. “You won’t believe this!”

Geordi swallowed the pasta with a swig of water. “Well, I won’t if you don’t tell me what it is.”

She fixed Geordi with a wide-eyed stare and a slightly scary smile. “There’s an opening on Nova Squadron and they’re going to give it to the winner of the Unofficial Eight-Ball.”

Narinder’s eyes got even wider and her smile was now nearly splitting her head in two.

Geordi’s fork clattered onto his plate.

“Holy shit,” he said. He was rarely one for cursing but yeah, _holy shit_ summed it up pretty well.

The Unofficial Eight-Ball was a flight path, a trophy and an alcoholic beverage. Almost since its inception, the freshman year cadets’ first timed run around the far side of the moon had been steeped in raucous legend. Bets were placed, it was rumoured, all the way up to Admiral rank and there was a buzz about campus as the day approached. The city itself would ‘batten down the hatches’ for the Friday night celebrations that followed as things could get… a little out of hand.

Commander Davison had already given Geordi’s class their final briefing. She had gone over the protocols for them filing their own flight plans for the first time. Although that was something Geordi had done in class a few times and the math was something he was comfortable with, he was starting to feel the pressure for the run itself. A bunch of fourth year cadets had whooped at him the day before and shouted encouragement. Staggered that they even knew who he was, he had been even more flabbergasted when a member of the civilian faculty had approached him and started to quiz him on his prospects of ‘winning the race’. Geordi had responded with the standard, official reply of, ‘It isn’t a race,’ where by his inquisitor had put a patronising arm around his shoulder and said, ‘If it’s not a race, son, why do they time it?’ to which Geordi didn’t really have an answer.

It was a race. The first real chance to make your mark at Starfleet. To say, ‘Here I am and I deserve to be here.’ It was around eight minutes of focus, pressure, speed, precision and adrenaline.

The flight path took in half an Earth orbit, after which you burn your engines on full power and, flat-out, head to the Earth-Moon Lagrange point L1. The solar observatory at L1, Sol-Station Alpha, was the first timing gate. If you could get there inside three minutes, you were on for a good time. From there, you and your ship cut across the station’s path and hang a hard 5-G turn to port, dragging the ship into lunar orbit. Out around the far side of the moon, timing gate two is out at Lagrange point L2. Keeping it as tight as you can, as fast as you dare, the aim is to come screaming out from the far side and then whip your ship back towards Sol-Station Alpha. Swiping past the station, you take the keenest line you can find with as much power as you can muster, bearing down to complete that figure-of-eight-Earth-Moon orbit with your engines at full cry.

The schematic had shown an elegant figure of eight being drawn around the Earth-Moon system, the cross over point being Sol-Station Alpha. That flight-path gave the run its nickname, was the basis of the design for the trophy and had inspired the creation of a mind-splitting alcoholic concoction. The trophy had some legendary names attached to it, there were cadets named on its roll of honour who had gone on to make history. The thought that various random people thought Geordi’s name could join them filled him with a giddy sort of pride and a creeping sense that this was all starting to get very, very real.

Having heard about it for years, when he actually saw the fabled trophy, Geordi was entranced. The Earth-Moon system and the flight path formed the trophy proper. The Earth was a large, plain silver sphere on the base. The Moon was an 8-Ball from a pool table elevated above it. Swept around them in a wide ribbon of silver was that elegant figure-of-eight orbital path. It was a beautiful thing.

The pool ball was said to have been taken from a game Jonathan Archer had won after he’d beaten the course record. Geordi was pretty sure that story was apocryphal, but the romance of it, the history that was undoubtedly attached to this trophy, it was like a gateway into a shared past and on, into an astonishing future. He felt it, like a punch in the gut, the weight of history and the expectation, but he was thrilled by it too. He’d told Bryce it wasn’t about being top of the class, it was about being the best that he could be. To have the chance to add his name to that list of cadets was a once in a lifetime thing. He wanted it. 

And now Narinder had just told him that as well as all that, there was a place up for grabs on Nova Squadron too.

“Insane or what?” Narinder said, clutching onto his arm.

“This is for real? It’s not a sick joke?”

“No, it’s totally genuine. It’s just gone out on the Squadron’s news letter. It’s 100% real. Everyone’s losing their shit.”

“Not surprised,” said Geordi, still trying to wrap his head around the implications. Nova Squadron was for the best of the best and outside of a self-indulgent daydream or ten, it hadn’t really been something he’d ever thought possible. Places _never_ came up.

“I am going to kick your arse, mate,” said Narinder. “I was going to anyway, but you’re going eat my exhaust fumes now!”

As if any of them needed further motivation. The reward of a seat on Nova Squadron was an insane development and a quite ridiculous opportunity. Geordi hadn’t thought it was possible to feel more excited or pressured or thrilled.

Clearly, he’d been wrong.

“What are you two pissing your pants about?”

Bryce.

Geordi’s heart sank. If anyone could take the shine of amazing, astonishing, wonderous news like this, it was Bryce.

Narinder shared a glance with Geordi. There was zero love lost between the two of them. Bryce had tried to get her into bed numerous times despite the fact that she had a steady boyfriend. That disrespect, that lack of a moral compass, raised serious hackles and she could hardly stand to be in the same room as him.

“Sorry, G,” she said, turning to leave. “I’m overcome by the stench of sulfur.”

“Meeeeoowwww,” said Bryce. “What a bitch.”

“Will you stop using that word. She’s not a bitch.”

“She's come to tell you the _amazing_ news I suppose. All you Fighter Pilot Aces, scrapping over that one chair in a Nova Squadron ship. It’s going to be bloody. It’s going to be brutal. And you’d better fucking win.”

Geordi felt his stomach pitch over. “Why?”

“I just put five hundred quid on you, that’s why.”

“What’s a quid?”

“Credits, you heathen. God, you lot raised in Starfleet really are fucking clueless. The real world does still use money, you know.”

Geordi’s mouth was hanging open. Five hundred credits. Where the _hell_ did Bryce get those kind of funds?

“So don’t lose or I’m fucked, okay?”

Bryce clapped him hard on the shoulder, hard enough for it to sting and then he wandered off.

Geordi sat there, cold lasange uneaten on his plate and a whole mess of emotions boiling in his head.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Adult themes and warnings previously tagged for will appear in this chapter.

Stardate 43615.7 – Elnar System, Chi Persei Cluster – Present Day

“You have the Bridge, Mr Data,” Commander Riker said.

“I have the Bridge,” Data confirmed, taking the centre seat. “Sweet dreams.”

“Sweet dreams?”

“Yes, sir. Now that you are ‘off to bed’, is that not an appropriate statement?”

“It’s a little… affectionate for an official handover.”

“So noted. Thank you, Commander.”

Commander Riker smiled at him for an interval of time which seemed inordinate before he took his leave and exited the Bridge. Data gave the computer the instruction to begin the night-shift. The lighting all over the ship dimmed and the cadence of the day settled into the slower, softer rhythms of the night.

As Operations Manager, Data was also reviewing the day’s reports from the section heads whilst in command. Geordi’s report on his teams’ progress indicated it had been somewhat awkward, due to his withdrawal to the _Enterprise._ However, initial difficulties had been overcome and work had progressed to the point that testing of the fusion reactors was planned to commence at 1345 hours tomorrow. There were still issues with both the warp and impulse engines, with on-going problems in the start-up sequences despite extensive refits.

As Data’s investigations had ruled out the cluster as the source of the difficulties, he had been running deep, detailed scans on both vessels. The scans of the _Enterprise_ had been completed relatively quickly and nothing of note had been found. The _Delagro II_ was immense and the scans which Data had ordered were only just now completing. She was two and half kilometres long and could have taken four Galaxy Class starships into her storage bays and still had spare capacity. Her volume was three and three quarter billion cubic metres, however, Data had noted a discrepancy.

Her exact volume was three billion, seven hundred seventy nine million, three hundred and forty two thousand, nine hundred and seventy three point nine eight cubic metres, yet his completed scans had reported only three billion, seven hundred seventy nine million, three hundred and thirty four thousand, eight hundred and forty seven point six three cubic metres.

“Computer, analyse results of the _Delagro II’s_ multiphasic scan and report on volumetric discrepancy.”

“ _There is an undetermined eight thousand, one hundred and twenty six point three five cubic metre shortfall in the scan analysis_ ,” the computer reported.

“What could cause such a shortfall?” This was not something Data had previously encountered. It was yet another curious problem.

“ _Unknown_ ,” the computer stated.

“Run a level three diagnostic on the starboard lateral sensor array.”

“ _Working_.”

Whilst the diagnostic ran, Data examined the results of the scans they had been able to make. The vast bulk of the ship was carrying ore from a nickel-iron-felderite asteroid. There were numerous smaller cargo bays which were filled with various and sundry items, none of which were capable of causing the extensive engine problems which continued to plague the huge ship.

_“Diagnostic complete. The starboard lateral sensor array is operating within established parameters.”_

“Yet they have failed to scan a portion of the target vessel. Speculate,” said Data. “What kind of disruption would be required to replicate the findings of the _Delagro II’s_ multiphasic scan?”

“ _An anaphasic shield. A cloaking device. A force-inverted tetrion source. A phase-shift barrier. A verteron radiation source in the high EM bands_.”

Data’s head jerked up as his faster-than-light positronic net made the connection. Geordi had seen a diffuse residue of high band EM radiation on Bryce O’Connor. Verteron radiation was known to have catastrophic effects on ships’ systems. And now a failed portion of a deep scan also supported this emerging hypothesis: that verteron radiation was the key to this mystery.

Data left the Captain’s chair and sat down at the aft Science I station.

“Computer, bring up a schematic of the _Delagro II.”_

A blueprint of the Leviathan Class bulk carrier appeared on the screen.

“Overlay sensor readings of the _Delagro II’s_ multiphasic scan and rotate in 360o.”

The outline image began to fill in and the text began to scroll, giving a key to each colour and the composition of the contents of each cargo bay and hold. As the image shifted and filled in, Data could zoom through the ship, moving through each massive hold and huge cargo bay until he came to an unfilled section.

Small and deep in the core of the ship, there sat a blank space.

“Data to Dr Crusher.”

“Crusher here.”

“Would you be available to begin your duty shift on the bridge immediately, Doctor?”

“Can you give me fifteen minutes?”

“Of course. That would be satisfactory.”

Having transferred command to Dr Crusher, Data transported over to the _Delagro II._ He had determined that her crew had retired for the night, leaving just the third officer on the bridge.

The massive ship was still and silent. Data had not wanted to transport too close to that sensor void in the centre of the ship.

And so he walked.

Down the long, straight corridors where his footsteps echoed, it was long minutes until he finally approached the door of the suspect bay. His tricorder had begun to pick up that same diffuse EM radiation that Geordi had detected earlier. Data attempted to open the door, but the lock would not disengage on his command. There also appeared to be a force-field of some sort behind the door. He opened the access panel and attempted to re-route the command pathways. Before he was able to complete the re-sequencing, he heard the distinctive sound of the _Delagro_ II’s anacyclic transporter.

Data spun around, reaching for his phaser, but it was too late.

Bryce O’Connor stood in front of him, his own phase pistol levelled at Data’s chest. He was dressed in an EVA suit, as if ready to go on a space walk.

“Drop it,” said O’Connor through the suit intercom.

Data complied and when instructed, he kicked his phaser over towards Bryce.

“The code for the door is 76839348,” O’Connor said. “Punch it in.”

Data refitted the cover and entered the code. The door opened and the force-field shut down. Immediately Data could feel the heat baking out of the cargo bay.

“In you go,” said Bryce.

Data stepped into the cargo bay and O’Connor followed. He was keeping his distance as Data took in the scene in front of him.

The bay was double height and approximately twenty metres on all sides. The door they had entered through led onto a platform. It was suspended above the floor which lay some ten metres below. A walkway ran along both walls and a gantry connected them halfway down the bay. Beyond that was the large storage container. The tritanium structure glowed dull yellow-orange in the gloom of the poorly lit room. Its temperature was approximately one thousand degrees Celsius.

“What is it that you have been smuggling?” asked Data, still making his way along the right-hand walkway.

Bryce had remained by the door and he was in the process of re-establishing the force-field.

The heat was becoming unpleasant and with each step, Data knew he was being dosed by verteron radiation. His systems were less vulnerable than those of a starship, but protracted exposure would begin to pose difficulties.

“That’s far enough. You can stop there.”

Data stopped and turned to look at O’Connor.

“I have my suspicions,” Data continued. “There are several sources of verteron particles, all of which are dangerous, but few of which would be lucrative enough to risk transporting them in such a slip-shod manner.”

“Slip-shod?”

“I believe you have been transporting weapons-grade velanadium in an inadequately shielded vessel.”

“Have you got any idea how much it costs to ship that stuff around in a legit carrier? I’m undercutting by seventy nine per cent and I’m _still_ making a fucking fortune.”

“It is a highly regulated, volatile material. The regulations are there for a reason. Where is this consignment to be delivered?”

Bryce snorted at Data. “As if I’d tell you.”

“It is my duty to enquire and investigate when wrongdoing is uncovered.”

“I’ll throw you a bone, Mr Data. When I said we didn’t take on anything at Markab Station that could cause the engine problems, it was the truth.”

“Ah,” said Data. “You were off-loading your consignment, not picking it up?”

Bryce grinned.

“Then the storage tank is empty at the moment?” Data said.

That it was still radiating such massive doses of heat and verteron particles was disturbing.

“Seventh shipment,” said Bryce. “The residue’s been building up and things are staying hotter for longer.”

“That would make sense. Verteron particles are known to accumulate in dense metallic materials.”

“Well,” said Bryce. “This has been lovely, but needs must. Turn around.”

Data ticked his head.

“Turn around,” Bryce repeated and raised his pistol.

He did not have a choice and so Data did as he was ordered. He stood still with his arms by his side, facing away from O’Connor. He stared impassively down the length of the cargo bay, the heat and the silence washing over him.

The phaser blast, when it came, struck Data between the shoulder blades. His T3 and T4 vertebral columns were vaporised and his spinal cord was severed. With no signal able to be conducted from his brain to his body, Data’s knees gave way and he pitched forward, crashing face first onto the gantry.

Fully conscious but now only able to move his head, Data watched from the corner of his eye as Bryce approached.

“Shall we see if we can’t make this a threesome?” Bryce enquired.

It took a few moments for Geordi to wake up fully. Their access computer was beeping incessantly. At this time of night it would only be doing that for something important. Something worrying. That it wasn’t coming over the internal comm system meant it wasn’t _Enterprise-_ related. If it had been his mom or his dad in trouble, the news would have been given to him through official Starfleet channels. Ari, maybe? Her kids?

Geordi groped for his VISOR and clicked it into place, concern swirling in his sleep-deprived brain. Data wasn’t off his bridge shift yet, clearly, as he was alone in their quarters as he padded over to the computer.

It took a second for Geordi to comprehend what he was seeing. The image was dim and unsteady and it swung to show Bryce, his image distorted through the faceplate of an EVA suit.

“Ditch your babysitters, Blinky, and get over here,” Bryce said. “I’ve got your boyfriend.”

The image then shifted to show a figure in a yellow Starfleet uniform lying face down on a walkway.

Data.

Fear and rage burst in Geordi’s chest. “What have you done to him?!”

“You’re not dead are you?” said Bryce.

“I am not,” said Data. “Do not—”

But then Bryce cut the transmission, leaving Geordi numb with dread and shaking with anger.

It was happening again. It was happening all over again.

*~*~*~*

Thursday, 19th November 2353 – San Francisco, Earth – 13 years previously

His mom was messaging him every five minutes. Or at least it felt like that. Geordi would get back to his rooms and there would be three or four or sometimes more messages piled up from her.

“Geordi,” this one began, with her pacing her Ready Room. “When you’re at the point where you break Earth orbit, don’t kick your engines up to full power until _after_ you’re free of the Van Allen Belts.”

Everyone knew that trick: waiting for that transition gave your ship a little boost as it pulled free of the outer atmosphere. Geordi shook his head. She was possibly more excited and nervous than he was. He’d never seen his mom so twitchy and it would have been endearing if it wasn’t so infectious. Her nerves were making his worse.

The next message began to play.

“Geordi. Forget that you’re going to be an engineer. Tomorrow, you’re a pilot. Pure and simple. You are not there to take care of those engines. You are not there to baby them through a test. You need to work them hard and dirty because you can win this.” She was glaring into the screen with a frankly scary look in her eyes. “You can win this.”

Geordi’s methodical, scientific side came from his dad. His ambition and his drive and his tenacity came from his mom. She wanted this as badly as he did, but her pep talks and this fusillade of advice in the last few days were stressing him out more than anything. And as if the race itself and the seat on Nova Squadron wasn’t enough, he also had Bryce breathing down his neck about the bet and Ariana was arriving in a few hours.

It was almost lunchtime and then he had a couple of free hours before his last class of the day. He was too wound up to eat and he was laying off the coffee until after the race. Caffeine jitters would not be welcome come race day. Which was tomorrow. Geordi felt his stomach pitch at the prospect, but he couldn’t deny there was a healthy dose of pure excitement slicing through the nerves.

Still, as he sat there, lost in thought, a sharp knock at the door was enough to make him jump.

His and Bryce’s rooms were in a cluster with two others at the end of a long corridor. Bryce had gotten pretty friendly with the guys either side of them who shared their little alcove. It was kind of nice, to be off the beaten track a little, especially with the insanity that had been going on in the run up to race day. Geordi’s small oasis of quiet and calm (as Bryce wasn’t there) being interrupted irked him, but he got up and opened the door.

“Maya!” said Geordi, irritation immediately transforming into delight.

“I want you.” Maya’s huge, dark eyes were searching Geordi’s face. “I want you to touch me. I want you to make love to me.”

“What? Now?” said Geordi, astounded by her timing.

Maya nuzzled his neck and pressed her body into his.

“Yes, now,” she said against his skin. “I want you now.”

They kissed. It started out soft, sensual and then became more. More passionate, more insistent and they started to pull off their own and each other’s clothes.

“One second,” Geordi panted. “One second.”

He tore himself away and went rifling through Bryce’s junkyard of a desk.

“Geordi?” Maya said, that purr in the middle of his name weakening his knees.

“Found it!” he said, holding Bryce’s red and white soccer scarf aloft.

He opened the door, leaned out, looped the scarf around the handle and shut it swiftly. Turning back to Maya, he closed the distance between them and took her in his arms.

They lost the last of their clothes and fell, naked and entangled, into Geordi’s bed.

Bryce sauntered towards their rooms, whistling an aimless tune. He was distracted by his bet. His credits were on credit and with some not very nice people. If La Forge won, he was going to collect a very tidy sum. If he lost? Well, Bryce didn’t have five hundred of anything and so was probably going to get his legs broken. But Qin wasn’t the best under pressure, so Bryce had reckoned it was down to Kaur and La Forge and Blinky was the better pilot.

As he approached their annex, Bryce stopped abruptly.

His scarf was tied to the door handle.

O’Connor’s smile was thin and cruel. _  
_

His concerns about the outcome of tomorrow’s race receded. Bryce took himself off to a secluded corner of the campus and took out his handheld viewer. He’d set it up a while ago, but La Forge had always screwed his girlfriend at her place. Until now. Bryce scrolled through the various levels of security that he’d built into his system and an image of their rooms flickered into view.

La Forge was riding his bitch of a girlfriend hard.

A shard of jealous anger twisted in Bryce’s chest. He could hear them breathing and gasping each other’s names. He could hear her begging him to touch her and he watched as La Forge slid his hand down her body and then down between them. Whatever he did to her there, it made her arch beneath him and cry out. 

Bryce wanted him. Since the first moment he had seen him, Bryce had wanted La Forge.

He’d nearly always been able to have whomever he had wanted. His talent for… manipulation was such an ugly word. Bryce’s talent for _persuasion_ was something innate and not entirely human. A great-great-great grandparent somewhere had been telepathically gifted and Bryce had inherited a little something from them. It was subtle and hard to separate out, but he had found he could _nudge_ people into doing what he wanted. It was incredibly useful and probably half his conquests were made that way. He liked breaking down those who resisted, he liked to feel them crack and then yield to him.

But it didn’t work on everyone. On La Forge it was only partially effective – Bryce had been able to get him to give up those flight simulator slots, but he’d been able to shrug off Bryce’s deeper, more aggressive overtures. Maybe it was his VISOR, or maybe he was just naturally resistant.

Bryce was fixated now, watching La Forge’s dark, hard body work. He glistened with sweat in the half-light, moaning with effort and with pleasure. Watching him, watching him screw his girlfriend, stirred Bryce’s jealous, vindictive heart.

He wasn’t the only La Forge in San Francisco. Not any more.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As Bryce begins to action his plans, particularly begining in the chapter following this one, there will be on-going content which will be disturbing - please check the archive warnings and the tags for any updates.

Stardate 43616.2 – Elnar System, Chi Persei Cluster – Present Day

Protocol required Geordi report immediately to his commanding officer. He dressed hurriedly and, hands shaking, he picked up his communicator from the side table. 

His head and his heart were at war. The image of Data, face down with a hole burned in his back would not leave his mind. Duty demanded he instigate those standing orders surrounding hostage taking. Love demanded that he go to Data’s side, orders be damned.

Tap the communicator and the weight of Starfleet stood foursquare behind him. To not have to face this alone was seductive. To hand over the responsibility to Captain Picard and Counselor Troi for the negotiations. To hand over responsibility for any rescue attempt to Commander Riker and to Worf. He could fall apart, knowing that the best of the best were doing their all to bring Data home.

But he also knew Bryce. Geordi knew he could easily kill Data out of pure spite and would take as many down with him as he could.

Geordi brushed his thumb over the cool metal casing of the communicator, so softly that it wouldn’t activate. Then he set it back down on the dresser.

With dread certainty, Geordi made his way to Transporter Room Three. It was the middle of the nightshift and the corridors were dimmed and deserted. Whether it was his training or stone cold fear, Geordi felt remote and distant as he made the modifications to the transporter cycle. He was going to use a test signal to disguise his destination. It would then continue in that diagnostic cycle for a further couple of hours, his pattern buried in the noise of a thousand test transports.

Geordi entered the co-ordinates that Bryce had sent with the message and transported over. Sick and numb and afraid, he materialised near the specified cargo bay.

The door opened and Geordi was hit by a wave of heat. Bryce waved him in at the point of a pistol. From a distance, O’Connor ran Data’s tricorder over him, checking for weapons or communication devices.

“Good boy,” Bryce said when the scans were negative. “Now get over there.”

Bryce had gestured to the opposite side of the cargo bay to where Data lay.

“Are you okay, Data?” Geordi asked as he made his way over to the left side of the walkway.

“I am severely damaged, but it is not yet critical. You should not have come.”

“Stop there,” Bryce said, “and turn towards me.”

Geordi did so and was just in time to catch something metallic that Bryce had thrown at him.

Handcuffs.

They were uncomfortably warm in Geordi’s hands, the metal drawing the intense heat from the air inside the bay.

“Cuff yourself to the handrail,” Bryce ordered.

Every ten metres or so, the handrail was supported by an upright which fixed it to the walkway. Looking along the railing, Geordi saw something that gave him a glimmer of hope in this impossible situation.

Bryce crouched down beside Data and put the weapon against his head.

“I don’t want to have to tell you again.”

Geordi took a couple of steps forward. It meant he could fasten the handcuffs beyond the next upright. It would allow him to move some ten metres further down the walkway, which meant ten metres closer to that blisteringly radioactive container.

He closed one side of the cuffs around the railing and with dread in his stomach, the other side around his left wrist.

“Tighter than that,” Bryce said, still holding Data at gunpoint.

Geordi closed them two or three more notches, the hot metal now in close contact with his skin.

“Pull on it,” Bryce ordered, standing up and moving away from Data.

He did so, twice and O’Connor seemed satisfied.

“Sit down,” Bryce said.

Geordi sat down on the walkway, his left hand now hanging up near his head.

Bryce smiled. “Stand up.”

Geordi glared at Bryce, but did as he was told.

“Sit down.”

When Geordi didn’t comply immediately, the pistol returned to point at Data’s head. Geordi, feeling sick and trapped and helpless and enraged, sat.

“Get up,” Bryce ordered.

“How long are we going to play this game?” Geordi asked.

“As long as I _fucking_ well like. Get up.”

Geordi stood.

“I love these,” said O’Connor, glancing at his weapon. “Remote controls for people. On your knees.”

Geordi knelt, the cross-hatched metal of the walkway digging into his kneecaps. 

“Put your right hand behind your back and hold it there.”

Geordi did so, his arm now pressed into the small of his back.

“Move one centimetre and he gets another hole burned through him. Is that clear?”

“Yeah, it’s clear,” said Geordi, sweat trickling down between his shoulder blades.

“Good,” said Bryce and began to make his way towards him.

*~*~*~*

Thursday, 19th November 2353 – San Francisco, Earth – 13 years previously

Geordi was nervously watching as Maya and Ariana settled down at their table. After Maya’s impromptu visit and his last class of the day, they had collected his sister from the transporter hub and sent her luggage on.

When they diverted to a café for coffee and a catch-up, he’d been banished by Ari. She insisted that she and Maya have their little chat there without him. She’d whispered to him it would be easier (to find out Maya’s prefered holiday destination) without his ‘hopeless’, ‘unsubtle’ presence.

“A guy could take offence,” Geordi had mumbled, but he knew she had a point.

He’d brought his flight plan with him and he was going over it, whilst keeping half his VISOR on the table over the way. As if he didn’t have enough to deal with. They were both leaning in, whispering, knowing he was only a few metres away. It all looked very conspiratorial. Then Ari looked over at him and smiled. A huge, bright, beaming smile and Geordi’s heart leapt. He was itching to go over, but he’d been told to keep away in no uncertain terms.

Some minutes later, when Maya went to the bathroom, Geordi couldn’t hold off any longer and he dived into the booth opposite his sister.

“Well?” he demanded.

“God, you’re useless. Can’t you wait?”

“She’ll be back in a sec. What do you think? Rome or Venice or Paris?”

“I haven’t asked yet, but—”

“What? Why not? You’ve been talking for over half an hour.”

“But,” Ariana repeated firmly, “I don’t think I need to. You could take her to a dive bar and to some scuzzy motel two minutes up the road and I don’t think she’d care. For some unknown reason, she’s crazy about you.”

“Seriously?”

“She’s as batty about you as you are about her. It’s kind of sickening,” Ari grinned. “She’s _thrilled_ that you’re in the running for this stupid race and is gushing about how attentive and thoughtful and devoted you are. She’s perfect for you!”

“Oh my God,” Geordi murmured. He hadn’t known, not for sure. He’d thought Maya felt that way. He’d _hoped_ and he’d been doing everything he could think of to make that hope manifest into reality. 

“Why are you here, Geordi?” Maya said, returning to the table. “Shoo away, while I am talking to your lovely sister.”

“I’m shoo-ing,” said Geordi. “I’ll go back over there and sit by myself. All alone.”

“Good,” she said, not rising to the bait. Maya brushed past him as they exchanged places. She leaned in and whispered, “We had some nice sex, but you need to think about the race now.”

Shocked amusement spilled onto Ariana’s face and it was clear that she’d heard what Maya had said. Geordi turned his back and left _that_ whole mess to the two of them to navigate. He sat back down at his own table.

Whether it was that post-coital glow or relief that Ari liked Maya or the wonderful confirmation that Maya felt the same way about him as he did about her, Geordi didn’t know, but a surge of joyous calm spread through him.

He picked up the PADD, feeling strangely at peace, and began to think about racing lines, engine burns and how best to secure victory.

Geordi wasn’t the only interested party observing Maya and Ariana’s _tête_ _-_ _à-_ _tête._ Bryce was hanging out at the café across the street, sipping tea and keeping tabs. When the three of them left, he followed them to Ariana’s hotel.

He hung back and after a short time La Forge and his slutty girlfriend emerged and walked back towards campus, arm-in-arm.

 _How sweet_ , Bryce sneered and followed them at a distance.

He enjoyed watching. The sense of power that it gave him was laced with an erotic charge. The toxic mix of envy, lust, anger and injustice tainted his every thought. If La Forge won tomorrow, which he had better, Bryce had his celebrations all planned out. 

Friday, 20th November 2353

After all the stress and the hype and the pressure, Geordi awoke on race day feeling calm. There was an odd sense of detached focus, as though everything had fallen away, leaving one single thing in his mind. It had started in the café yesterday afternoon, but the clarity he now felt was something sharper and more well defined.

After showering and dressing, the feeling persisted, even after seeing there was a fresh barrage of messages from his mother overnight. He didn’t view them, the two from his father or the several dozen from friends and his extended family.

He had few hours before he needed to be at the launch pad and after eating breakfast, he lay on his bed and for something to do, he listened to some music.

Bryce was quiet, for once seeming to respect Geordi’s space, both physical and mental. He had a lot riding on the outcome of this and when that thought moved across Geordi’s mind, it didn’t disturb the smooth, calm waters he found himself in. 

When it was time to leave, all Bryce said was, “Good luck.”

He knew this was going to be hard on his roommate. Even after taking those ground sessions of Geordi’s, he hadn’t managed to make the grade and he’d been asked to leave the course. Geordi suspected Bryce’s inadvisably large bet on the outcome was a way for him to still feel involved and in touch with something that had meant so much to him.

“Thanks. See you once it’s all over.”

At the launch bay, Geordi got changed into his flight suit. They were going in alphabetical order, based on the Latin system this year. 

Xiang looked like he was going to be sick, so Geordi wandered over and clapped him on the shoulder.

“You’ll be fine,” he said.

“I’m four from the end,” Qin said, his face full of doubt.

“That’s good though, you’ll know pretty much exactly what you have to do.”

“Ugh,” his friend groaned. “I just want it over with. I feel ill.”

“Nerves are a good thing,” Geordi said, not feeling any himself. “Sharpens the senses, right?”

“I guess.” Xiang looked at Geordi with a desperate curiosity. “Why do we do this to ourselves?”

Geordi laughed. He still felt like he was in a bubble. He felt sharp, he felt calm, he felt distant and yet completely present. It was like he had tapped into the universe and everything and nothing mattered.

Narinder was sat on one of the benches, earphones in, head down, her eyes drilling into the floor. She’d be listening to some raucous din and channelling all her focus on those eight short minutes.

All twenty-eight of them had now arrived and suited up. Geordi took in the room now filled with his fellow cadets. Five different species, three different genders, each of them with their own ways of getting psyched up or chilled out or tuned in. Geordi could read the tension in the room, he could see their elevated heart rates, their increased blood pressure. He could see each and every one of them was in a heightened state of stress. Whereas he… he felt calm. Supremely calm. He didn’t feel sick like Xiang, he didn’t need to blast music to focus like Narinder, he didn’t need to give himself a pep talk in the mirror like Tel Venerack.

When the call went out for the first cadet, the room jumped as one. Except for Geordi. He just lifted his gaze to the comm panel.

“Cadet Anderson, to the flight deck please.”

Katia stood up, gave herself a second, and then strode out of the room to murmurs of ‘good luck’ and ‘all the best’.

They would only be averaging one half of one per cent the speed of light, but that was still insanely quick. 

Anderson’s run was solid, eight minutes, twelve point four seconds, her time flashing up on the display board.

“Cadet Ao’ul, to the flight deck please.”

One by one, the room emptied, their times briefly shown on the board before the next was called.

“Cadet Kaur, to the flight deck please.”

Narinder gave Geordi and Xiang a tight little smile and then headed out of the room. Kelly was next, then it would be Geordi’s run. He still felt serene, and when his name was called, he walked calmly out to the flight deck.

The lieutenant at the gate took his name, checked his credentials and activated his flight plan.

His ship stood on the elevated deck, its metallic hull a bright, angular blade in Geordi’s vision.

He climbed into the cockpit and began his pre-flight checks, taking the opportunity to adjust a few parameters, setting the matter-antimatter mix and inertial dampers to his own preference. He set the mix to burn hot and he had sharpened up the inertial dampers so that he could take an extra 0.75 G on the tight turns he was planning around the Lagrange points.

Clearance came over the comm and in three, two, one, Geordi was airborne, thrusters for the vertical take off and then engines as soon as you dared. He was supersonic within five seconds and out of haze of the lower atmosphere inside ten. The Rayleigh Scattering that defined Earth, that arc of impossible blue against the endless black of space, was a vivid shock in Geordi’s vision, but he had no time for wonder.

In moments, he was in the Van Allen Belts and that critial transition loomed. Geordi could see it, he could _see_ that band of tenuous yet intense radiation and he could see the exact second he needed to punch up the engines. The split second his ship cleared the Belts, he hit the switch and he felt the ship leap, that jolt to maximum pressing him into his seat, kicking out ten terawatts of pure reactive power.

L1 and Sol-Station Alpha were on his instruments and in his sights. The lull in gravity as the Earth and Moon cancelled out each others’ influence was a navigational and stylistic test. For the turn around the Station, you could go fast and wide, or ease back and take a tighter line. Either way, the sudden lack of gravity at those speeds was a severe test. 

Geordi could see it, he had to look for it, but he could see it. The L1 area of null gravity that could so easily screw with your racing line looked to Geordi like a reddish whorl against the endless void. It was like a gyre at the confluence of ocean currents which could pull you in and draw you down. Get this wrong and his race was over.

The choice was always hard and wide or slow and tight, but as his ship flew closer, Geordi could see gravity streaming inward. He could see the silver spire of Sol-Station Alpha entangled at the centre of a swirl of crimson ribbons. He could also see a line. He could see a tight, _fast_ line and he took it, his ship screaming past the station at less than five hundred metres and at damn near full speed. There was a grin plastered onto his face, because he knew he’d nailed the turn. He came punching out of the Lagrange Point at just six per cent off the engine’s maximum output. Those extra Gs had thrown him hard into his harness, but Geordi didn’t care because he didn’t have time to care: the cool, hard sphere of the Moon now filled his vision.

Skimming a cratered surface which looked close enough to touch, he pulled off a nerveless gravity-assist, picking up speed, stealing angular momentum from the Moon. As he angled his ship out to L2, again he could see that becalmed area of space, a reddish, elliptical lozenge that rippled in his vision. He picked his line. Hard and fast and tight, he pulled a window-rattling turn around the timing gate.

His sharpening of the inertial dampers meant he’d kept the ship just about within tolerance. An amber alarm flashed for a few seconds before going dark and then the Moon re-filled his horizons and he was on the turn for home.

It had worked on the way out, so it would work on the way in. Geordi picked up even more speed off his second gravity assist and chose a blistering line of attack. Sol-Station Alpha screamed to starboard, his velocity ripping him out of the gyre and hurling him into the sphere of the Earth’s influence. He was jolted severely as the hard Gs of that manoeuvre slammed him into his seat, the sweeping curve of the Earth echoed in the hard pull of her gravity. Pushing the engines till he was sure he could hear them shrieking, Geordi grinned through gritted teeth.

Then the black envelope of space turned beautiful blue and almost as soon as it had begun, it was over.

He had touched-down on the flight deck and was taking the engines offline. He sat back in his seat, a little battered, a little bruised but completely elated. It had been a damn near perfect run.

Seven minutes, fifty two point six seconds.

He had to stop himself punching the air. It was the best run of the day by more than three seconds. There were just eight more cadets who still had to complete their runs and they would have to go some to beat that time. That odd, intense focus morphed into certainty. Geordi was sure. He’d just won the Unofficial Eight-Ball and had secured his place on Nova Squadron.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As mentioned, the following chapters will have on-going, disturbing content.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please note that new tags have been added. The remainder of the story will deal with violent and sexual themes and their aftermath, so please don't read on if the subject matter will cause distress.

* * *

Stardate 43616.2 – Elnar System, Chi Persei Cluster – Present Day

When Bryce got to the intersection on Geordi’s side of the walkway, he paused and removed the helmet of his EVA suit.

“Won’t hurt for a bit,” he said, referring to the radiation levels the suit was protecting him from.

Bryce’s footsteps shook the walkway, jarring Geordi’s knees and he swallowed hard as Bryce came to a stop in front of him.

“Open your mouth,” Bryce said.

“Why?”

“Because I told you to.” O’Connor pushed the pistol against Geordi’s lips, rocking his head back. “Open your mouth.”

“Do not do this to him,” Data said.

“It’s okay,” Geordi said to Data, the tip of the pistol resting lightly against his lower lip, though nothing, _nothing_ about this was okay.

He took a breath and forced himself to open his mouth. Bryce pushed the weapon in slowly, the metal rattling over Geordi’s teeth. The utter vulnerability of his position juddered through his brain. The possibility that Bryce was about to pull the trigger was very real and very present. His life didn’t exactly flash before him, but his thoughts were flooded with a wrenching mixture of love and regret. For things not said, or said in haste, for things not done or done without thought. He said a silent goodbye to those he loved, to those he knew loved him back.

“You had everything I wanted,” said Bryce, dragging the weapon out over Geordi’s tongue, before pushing it back in. “Without even trying. Your perfect family and your perfect scores and your perfect girlfriend. I wanted to punch your head in. But I wanted to fuck you, too.”

Geordi swallowed, his mouth wedged open, as sweat ran down his face.

“Did you know?” Bryce continued. “Back then, did you know I wanted to fuck you? All those times you thought I was joking, I wanted to fuck you so bad. Even after everything, I still do.”

Geordi’s mind was spiralling. He couldn’t speak, the barrel of the pistol was pressed deep into his mouth, threatening to choke him and he could feel the fizz of the discharge crystal against his tongue. The strange chill of his fear was jagged against the oppressive heat. 

Bryce pulled the pistol out of Geordi’s mouth and then pressed it into the side of his throat. Now Bryce knelt too and, leaning forward, he pressed his mouth over Geordi’s. Frozen in the blistering heat, Geordi did not dare move as the ‘kiss’ continued.

“Do you remember?” Bryce said breaking away, his voice a whisper. “Do you remember this from before? All those nights, alone in my cell. I thought about it a lot. How your lips felt, how it felt to have your body pressed against mine. We were so close, I could feel your heart hammering, like I can now.”

Bryce’s free hand gripped the back of Geordi’s neck and he kissed him again and it was violent and rough and desperate. All the while the phaser was painfully gouging into the side of Geordi neck. He tried to do what he’d done before, to put his head outside of himself, to remove himself as best he could from what was happening. To put as much mental distance between Bryce and himself as was possible.

And then it was suddenly over. Bryce was moving off, re-fitting his helmet and heading back towards Data.

“A little refresher for the old memory banks,” O’Connor said, snapping out of his maudlin frame of mind. He stepped over Data’s prone body. “Sorry to love you and leave you, but I need to make a move.”

As Bryce headed for the door, Geordi turned to him.

“You’re going to leave us in here?”

“Yeah. By the time they find you, you’ll be dead. They’ll find a pair of radiation-riddled corpses. But that’s going to take them hours and hours and hours. I mean, I did think about killing you outright. Put that phaser to your head and _boom._ But it just wasn’t enough.”

“What do you mean?”

“For seven years spent in a steel box. For ruining my life. It wasn’t enough. Bang-bang? Nah, too quick and too painless. And this way, you’re going to have to watch each other die. Slowly.” Bryce grinned, shark-like and severe. “Payback’s a bitch, Blinky.”

Bryce made his way swiftly across the ship. It was deserted at this time of night but he could really do without bumping into anyone. Dressed in an EVA suit and carrying a phaser… That would raise a few questions. He went aft, to one of the medium sized bays. According to the manifest, it stored hull plating, engine components and a computer core, but what it really stowed was Bryce’s pride and joy.

He’d bought his beautiful little ship with the proceeds of the first four shipments of velanadium. Sleek and black and equipped with an oh-so-illegal cloak, she took Bryce’s breath away every time he saw her. He climbed aboard, fired her up and remote-activated the bay doors.

Having his hand forced by Blinky’s electronic boyfriend was pretty fucking galling and it was going to cost him a small fortune. If the android had kept his beaky nose out of Bryce’s business, if they’d just fixed the engines and fucked off like they were supposed to, none of this would have been necessary. It was their own fault. Bryce couldn’t be blamed for an act that combined a practical need with a rather excellent opportunity for retribution.

Kissing Blinky again after all those years’ was a brilliant bonus. That and the thought of them trapped there, slowly dying was going to be keeping Bryce very warm and very cosy on what might be a long, lonely trip.

Flying still thrilled him though and he had a whole galaxy out ahead of him. There were crate-loads of latinum in the hold and not a single damn thing to stop him. His dark dagger of a ship flashed out of the bay. Cloak engaged, Bryce vanished from the sensors and melted away into the stars.

*~*~*~*

Friday, 20th November 2353 – San Francisco, Earth – 13 years previously

Last year’s winner, Amala Sanchez, stood at the far end of McMahon’s bar, the trophy in her hands. The pub was crammed with people as Geordi entered. He’d been conducted there by a sort of guard of honour of his fellow cadets. They’d kept him moving towards their destination even while the streets teemed with people celebrating. As he stepped inside, the raucousness of the street was replaced by the dark, intimate silence of the crowded bar.

They’d been expecting him.

There was a clear line from the door to Sanchez. Geordi had to go up to her and take the trophy off her. That was the tradition. It wasn’t given or awarded or handed over – you had to take it.

Perhaps two hundred pairs of eyes were on Geordi as he approached. He wrapped his fingers around the wide silver ribbon that swept around the representation of the Earth and Moon. Amala, as tradition also dictated, didn’t let go. Geordi had to pull it out of her hands. When he did, the pub erupted as one with an impossible roar. It only lasted a short time however before silence fell again.

Geordi walked to the centre of the bar and set the trophy down. The bartender nodded to him, no words needed and began to pull the lever on the beer pump. No replicators, no synthahol, this was a genuine old Irish pub and the large glass was slowly filled.

A pint of Guinness poured, it was stood on the bar in front of Geordi. The capacity of the glass was significantly more than the pint of stout it now contained. That was because eight shots of Jameson’s whiskey were now being solemnly poured, one by one, into the rich, dark liquid. This was the mind-splitting Unofficial Eight-Ball alcoholic beverage and Geordi was going to have to try and down it in one. 

He hadn’t given this aspect very much thought. Now that it sat in front of him, idiotically alcoholic and quite probably disgusting, that felt like a terrible oversight. There were two medics on hand, in case of alcohol poisoning. He knew that was for show. He was pretty sure it was for show. It was probably for show. The only thing he did know for sure was that he needed to wait, wait for the swirl of caramel coloured liquids to separate, until there was clear demarcation of jet black beer from thick white foam.

The stout and whiskey combination wasn’t anything like he was expecting. Bitter and smooth, there was a hint of coffee at first and for a second he thought it wasn’t so bad. Then the whiskey kicked fire into the back of his throat and he thought he was going to cough the mouthful across the bar. Despite every instinct, Geordi managed to swallow that first shocking taste. The only way he was going to do this, to use the English phrase Bryce had introduced to his vocabulary, was to ‘neck it’. Mind over matter. He could do this. 

He brought the glass back up to his lips, steeled himself and then gulped and gulped and gulped. Bitter coffee caramel with that insane kick of whiskey burned down his throat in what felt like an endless river. But when he slammed that empty glass onto the bar, the place went crazy.

There was no more silence, no more decorum, the place exploded. A crush of people descended on him, hugging and kissing him and then each other and then him again. Music started thumping and the whole place was heaving, bodies pressed against bodies in the hot, heavy darkness.

Then the alcohol hit and it felt like Geordi’s head had been smacked out the back of his skull. Whacked into orbit, he was flying, high on victory, on the buzz of the booze and on the insane adoration of a crowd of complete strangers.

But not everyone there was a stranger. Bryce stood in the corner, watching as La Forge got plied with more and more alcohol, hands and bodies and mouths all over him, grabbing and groping, the music thudding through them. The whole place seemed to throb like a single organism, as if the pulse of the music and the pulse of the lights beat inside every one of them.

Despite the heat and the press of bodies, Bryce felt a chill pain in his chest. A cold dagger of jealousy twisted into his heart and lodged there. La Forge had won his bet for him and he should have felt good, he should have felt relieved and jubilant, but he didn’t. Far, far from it. Bryce felt choked with a desperate anger which was shot through with a kind of inexpressible need. 

He couldn’t stand to watch any longer. O’Connor fought his way out of the bar. This wasn’t the only La Forge that needed his attention tonight.

Ariana was lost in amongst the throngs of people that had spilled out into the street following her brother’s victory. She’d never seen anything quite like it. The crush and the number of people were ridiculous, the mood ebullient and excessive. It was like the whole city had decided it was okay to throw any and all inhibitions into the wind.

She’d got separated from Maya earlier in the evening and had been fighting to make her way back to her hotel ever since. She’d make some headway, but then the crowd would swell and sway and Ariana would find herself swept half a kilometre out of her way and have to start all over again.

It was an amazing thing to witness, to be a part of and she was, despite her indifference to the race itself, hugely, hugely proud of her big brother.

She’d tried to comm both Geordi and Maya several times, but nothing was getting through. The sheer number of messages being sent had crashed the system and she couldn’t get anything other than a ‘try again later’ tone.

Ariana had had a few drinks, she was only partly adjusted to the time-lag and she really, really wanted to get back to her hotel.

A transporter hub sailed into her vision, but she would have to fight her way across a mass of several thousand people to get to it. Then she spied the epic nature of the queue to use it and gave up on that as a possibility. After what felt like hours, Ariana could finally see her hotel. Swimming against this rip-tide of humanity and all its cousins, she thrashed through the last few hundred metres and practically fell through the doors into the lobby.

The calm and the silence that descended made Ariana’s head ring. The lobby was an oasis. Quiet, still and blissfully, there were just a few people dotted around in the scattered seats.

A guy made eye contact with her, intense and piercing. He stood up and started to make his way over. Ariana realised she recognised him a little, though she couldn’t say from where. Good-looking, tall and with a swagger that spoke volumes, he stuck out his hand as he reached her and smiled.

When that smile fused with that intense gaze and Ariana felt a flush of heat flow over her.

“Bryce O’Connor,” he said, as if that name should mean something.

“I’m sorry,” Ariana said, taking his hand. “Do I know you?”

His smile widened. “I’m Geordi’s roommate. It is Ariana, isn’t it?”

“Of course!” she exclaimed. 

“We’re having a bit of a get together back at our place. Geordi sent me to see if I could find you.”

“Oh! Great, thank you. I got separated and the comm system is all jammed up.”

“Yeah, it happens every year apparently. You think they’d learn, but I think they weirdly like the chaos of it.”

“It’s amazing and a little bit scary,” Ariana said.

Bryce smiled.

“There’s a bit of a queue for the hotel’s transporter,” he said. “I’ve asked them to give us a shout when there’s a slot. Do you want to get a drink? The bar’s pretty quiet.”

Ariana hadn’t wanted another drink, she had been wanting to crawl into bed and go to sleep, but she found herself nodding, swept along by something beyond her control for the second time that night.

“Good,” said Bryce, his arm slipping easily around her waist.

Guided to a table in the corner, Ariana sat down, feeling a little dazed. There were drinks on the table already, as if he’d known that she’d say yes.

“Champagne,” he said. “To celebrate.”

She blinked slowly and watched condensation drip down the side of the glass. Bryce picked up his drink and Ariana found herself doing likewise with hers.

“To old friends and new acquaintances,” Bryce said, his eyes drilling into her.

“Mmmmm,” Ariana managed and then drank when Bryce did.

She listened as Bryce spoke. He was telling her stories about himself, his upbringing in England, about his time at the Academy, but Ariana found that soon as the words were spoken, she couldn’t quite remember what had just been said. Her mind drifted, lulled and led by the twists and turns of Bryce’s voice.

“And we get this crazy weekend as reward,” Bryce seemed to conclude. “Where everyone is letting their hair down.”

Ariana felt Bryce’s hand touch the strip of Alindi fabric that held up the twists of her braids. He pulled it undone and they spilled down over her shoulders. Her breath caught as he swept a stray strand from over her eyes. His fingers trailed down the side of her face and then tilted up her chin.

“I want to kiss you,” he whispered. “Can I?”

Ariana nodded and she shivered at the soft press of his lips. She let Bryce lead her to the hotel’s transporter pad. Moments later she was in his room, then in his arms and then in his bed.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The remainder of the story will deal with violent, disturbing sexual themes and their aftermath, so please don't read on if the subject matter will cause distress.

* * *

Stardate 43616.2 – Elnar System, Chi Persei Cluster – Present Day

Bryce left, locking the door and re-establishing the force-field.

When he had gone, Geordi got off his agonised knees and slumped against the upright. His thoughts were numbed with shock and anger and fear. The memory of Bryce’s mouth and hands crawling over him made him want to vomit. The trauma of all those years ago had roared into his mind, filling his head with a shame he’d fought so hard to leave behind. He hadn’t been able to protect Maya and Ariana, and he hadn’t been able to protect Data. Geordi shuddered at his recurring failures.

“Are you all right, Geordi?” Data said from across the way.

“Just give me a second,” he replied as the adrenaline withdrawal began to make him shake uncontrollably.

He tried to breathe, the boiling heat and the choking, toxic air burning in his lungs. He had to get past this, or they were both going to die. He wasn’t a naïve kid anymore, he had more than a decade of service under his belt and he was going to use it. Drawing on that rich depth of experience and those years of training, Geordi began to get a hold of his racing pulse and his panic-ridden thoughts. Data needed him. He focused on that, knowing if anything was going to take precedent over the revived trauma and Bryce’s fresh assault, it was that the love of his life was severely injured.

“How bad are you?” asked Geordi, needing to know and yet in fear of the answer.

“My vertebra and spinal cord have been severed at the T3/T4 junction. No signals are able to be received below that point. Therefore my fans are no longer in operation and the temperature of my coolant is rising.”

“That’s not good. How long do you have?”

“I estimate my positronic net will begin to overheat in thirty-nine minutes and seven seconds. If my temperature continues to rise at the current rate, I anticipate a complete systems failure in two hours, eight minutes and fourteen seconds.”

Those words hit Geordi with a terrible force and his stomach lurched. _Complete systems failure_. 

“Have you shut down all non-essential processes?”

“Yes, Geordi. I am running on minimal power and I am focused only on analysing our current predicament.”

“That should buy us a little time. We’re getting out of here, all right?”

“I do not see how. I do not anticipate the _Enterprise_ missing us for a further five hours—”

“You might not see how, Data,” Geordi interrupted. He set his sights on the walkway ahead of him. “But I can.”

*~*~*~*

Saturday, 21st November 2353 – San Francisco, Earth – 13 years previously

Geordi woke up with a skull-splitting hangover on the floor of… somewhere.

He felt grim and he didn’t have the faintest clue where he was. ‘Indoors’ was about the best he could come up with. He’d slept in his VISOR too and that didn’t exactly help with the headache situation. The room was spinning. Was it possible to be hungover and drunk at the same time? Geordi had no idea. 

He could remember McMahon’s, just about, but the rest of the night was a blank. 

There were other people strewn about the room. Some were on a sofa, some were sprawled in and across chairs, others, like Geordi, were on the floor. 

He lifted his head to get a better look around and immediately regretted it. Banging pain thumped through his head and his stomach swooned with nausea. He groaned and laid his head back down.

“He’s awake!” somebody bellowed, the voice entering his ears like ice-picks.

“Urgh, don’t shout,” Geordi mumbled into the rug. 

“Shhhhhh!” the loud person said. “He’s a bit hungover.”

“So am I, you noisy _twenq_ ,” growled an irritated voice from behind the sofa.

“Poorly heads?” said the loud person. “Let me get you something for it.”

They might have been loud, but they were soon the deliverer of wonderful, wonderful pain relief. The replicated hypospray made decent in-roads into Geordi’s headache and he stopped feeling like he was going throw up enough to get off the floor and at least sit up.

A few more people were doing likewise, rousing themselves after dosing up. Geordi glanced around the room and had no idea who any of them were. His trophy stood triumphant in the middle of the coffee table, the scattered detritus, both humanoid and inanimate, lay strewn around it in extravagant disarray. It had been a hell of a party, apparently.

“Do you want a fry up? English or Irish?” said the loud person. “Grease and lots of it, my great-granddad used to swear by it.”

“You’ll make him _spurl_ ,” said a girl with an Irish accent who’d come to sit by Geordi on the floor. “Get him some porridge.”

“Nothing is fine. I really, _really_ don’t want anything.”

Geordi felt a lot better, but given how bad he’d felt when he’d woken up, that was relative. Food, even the thought of it, was making him distinctly queasy again.

When the loud person started to replicate their breakfast, the smell wafting across inspired several of Geordi’s fellow afflicted to start to crawl – _crawl_ – towards a door which turned out to be the bathroom.

The sound of people being ill and the hot, greasy smell of the loud person’s breakfast were enough for Geordi. He was ready to head back to campus.

“This might sound like a stupid question,” he said, breathing deeply through his mouth, “but where are we?”

“Over the bay and far away,” someone giggled.

“We’ve ended up at Del’s,” said the Irish girl.

“I don’t know who that is,” Geordi said.

“The lad with the breakfast. Our host with the most. Do you not know him?”

Geordi shook his head gingerly. “I’m pretty sure I don’t know anyone here.”

“Wow. You’ve had a night of it then. Quite rightly,” she said with a firm nod. “I’m Maisie-Mae McMullen.”

She stuck out her hand. Geordi took it and gave it a brief shake.

“I’m Geordi La Forge.”

“I know who you are, fly-boy,” she said, a wicked look in her eye. “You’re the talk of the town, the toast of the town. Only right you get hammered out of your head. It’s tradition. And thank you, by the way.”

“What for?” Geordi asked, confused.

“For not taking the piss out of my name. Appreciate that.”

“Um, you’re welcome.”

“There’s a transporter pad down the end of the street, if you go left out the main entrance, you’ll find it soon enough.”

When Geordi got outside the fresh air hit him like a sack of wet sand, the last of the drunken waves washing back over him. He hadn’t been expecting that. He leaned against the wall and took a few deep breaths.

While he collected himself, he pulled out his small PADD and checked his messages. There were nine thousand, four hundred and thirty six. Thirty seven. Thirty eight. Geordi stared as the numbers ticked higher. The timestamp on the latest ones coming through showed they were sent over seven hours ago.

He tried to call Maya, but he got a busy signal. Ari was likewise unreachable. He shoved the PADD back into his pocket and started down the street towards the transporter. It was a cool, bright day and the walk was starting to clear out some of the alcoholic fog from his brain. His Saturday morning had been obliterated and it was now mid-afternoon. The streets were still heaving with people. A few recognised him (it was hard to be anonymous with that distinctive silver band over his eyes) and some shouted at him or barrelled over for a snapshot. Mercifully, most seemed in a worse state than Geordi and generally left him alone.

He got in the queue for the transporter, feeling a little bit better. When he got home was going to get a shower and then get into bed and sleep the rest of the day. That felt like a solid plan.

He stepped up onto the transporter pad once it was his turn and materialised outside of his rooms. As Geordi opened the door, two huge Norsicans grabbed his arms and dragged him into the room.

“What the _fuck?”_ he shouted. “Let go. _Let go!”_

Bryce emerged from his room as Geordi struggled to free himself from the grip of the two huge men.

“Bryce!” Geordi shouted. “What the hell is this? 

A third Norsican and a Kirellian were lounging on the sofa.

“You two,” Bryce said to them, as though he was talking to a pair of trained animals.

They looked to Bryce.

“Go and wait at the end of the corridor,” he told them. “You know what to do.”

As they left the room, Geordi’s mind was racing.

“Who are your friends?” he said, jerking his head at the two Norsicans that were still holding him.

“Business acquaintances,” Bryce smirked. “I suppose you could say they facilitated my bet. When they dropped off my winnings, I thought they could join in the fun. The more the merrier, right, boys?”

“As long as I get paid,” the one to Geordi’s left snarled.

“I am here to mate with the female,” the other said.

“What female?” said Geordi, not seeing anyone, but afraid for whomever she was.

“Sweetheart?” Bryce said, raising his voice. “Why don’t you join us?”

When Ariana emerged from Bryce’s room, Geordi’s jaw hit the floor. Dazed and dressed in one of Bryce’s Academy sweatshirts, she slowly made her way into the room.

“What have you done to her?” Geordi cried, struggling against the two mercenaries. He could see her pulse was sluggish and her blood pressure was low.

Bryce sat Ariana on the sofa and she lolled there like a broken doll, her eyes fluttering closed. 

“Nothing. Like I said, we’ve had a bit of a party while you were off being the hero of the hour.”

“Ari! Ariana!”

She half-opened her eyes and then closed them again.

“Jesus, Bryce, what have you given her?”

“Apart from a good seeing too? Some pills, some booze. We were having a party!”

“Ari! Wake up,” Geordi yelled. “Wake up!”

Again, her eyelids did little more than flutter.

“Stop shouting at the poor girl,” Bryce said, picking up his PADD off the coffee table. “She didn’t get much sleep last night.”

O’Connor turned the PADD around. On the screen, Ariana was straddling Bryce, their bodies and their cries of pleasure meshing together.

Geordi ripped his gaze away, turning his face from the screen, trying to not see what was begin held in front of his unblinking VISOR.

“See?” said Bryce. “She’s a very willing participant. Very enthusiastic. I don’t usually like it when they get on top, but she was going for it. Riding me like the thoroughbred that I am, weren’t you?” he said to Ariana, who didn’t respond.

“What is this? What the hell is this?” Geordi couldn’t wrap his head around what any of this was. He was reeling.

“It’s a celebration. You’re guest of honour for a weekend of debauched revelry. Your sister is the aperitif to the main course. Just waiting for one last name on the guest list.”

Geordi looked at Bryce, fear and rage boiling in his blood.

“I called Maya,” O’Connor grinned. “Left her a message a good few hours ago. Said you were really ill after your night on the town and were asking for her. She should be here soon.”

“No,” Geordi shook his head. “You can’t do this. You can’t do this to people!”

“I can do what I like,” Bryce suddenly snarled. “And what I like is everybody getting to have a go on you and your sister and your slaggy girlfriend. Or, how about when Maya gets here, I put a knife to her throat and make you fuck your sister.”

The two Norsicans laughed like that would be the funniest thing in the world, though Bryce wasn’t laughing.

“You’re sick,” Geordi said, revulsion churning. “What the hell is the matter with you?”

Bryce looked at him intently. “I don’t honestly know. I’m not sure I care that much.”

“Bryce, Jesus, please," Geordi said, desperate and afraid, "I don’t know why you’re doing this. You’ll go to jail. You’ll go to jail if you do this.”

Bryce shook his head. “No I won’t.”

O’Connor went over to his desk and opened one of the drawers. He pulled out three hyposprays.

“At the end of festivities, there’s one each for the three of you. You won’t remember a thing. You’ll all wake up on Monday morning, groggy as fuck with no recollection of what’s happened. You’ll think you partied too hard and drank too much. A lost weekend that you can put down to your victory celebrations. Neat, huh?”

“Bryce, this is fucked up. I don’t know why you’re doing this.”

“Because I want to. Because I can.”

Bryce advanced and the two Norsicans tightened their grip on Geordi’s arms, twisting them higher up his back. O’Connor grabbed Geordi’s head and forced a kiss onto his lips. He tried to wrench his head away, adrenaline sending panic through his system, but Bryce pushed closer, his body pressed into Geordi’s.

“Why won’t you give it up,” Bryce murmured. “Be easier. Be easier for everybody if you let me have what I want.”

“You’d let Ari and Maya go?” Geordi said, his voice shaking as Bryce’s hands ran over his body.

“I’d think about it,” Bryce said, his mouth moving back to cover Geordi’s lips.

Geordi pulled away. “Not good enough.”

Bryce backed off as a flash of pure anger lit across his face. “You need to understand who’s in charge here.”

He held up his hand in front of Geordi’s VISOR. Looped around his middle finger, a flattened silver cube hung from a short chain. It was smaller than a hand phaser and had been easily concealed in his palm. 

“I made this for you.”

“What is it?” Geordi asked, wary. He could see there was a lot of power packed into the small device. 

“This is my optical engineering project. I’ll show you how it works. Hold him,” he told the Norsicans, his thumb dancing over a depression in the top of the device.

When Bryce pressed the button it was like a bomb had gone off. Geordi’s VISOR erupted in blinding light. The impact was like a lightning bolt and it snapped his head back. Pain like he had never felt tore through his skull. As the massive energy burst shattered through his brain, he began to convulse.

The last thing Geordi saw before his VISOR shorted out was Maya being bundled into the room. The last thing he heard before he lost consciousness was Maya screaming out his name.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The remainder of the story will deal with violent, disturbing sexual themes and their aftermath, so please don't read on if the subject matter will cause distress.

Stardate 43616.3 – Elnar System, Chi Persei Cluster – Present Day

Geordi was burning. He was as close to the container as he dared get and he could now feel the skin on the side of his face and hand starting to blister. In his VISOR, the railing was moving beyond red hot into orange and the handcuff was conducting it with horrible efficiency. Geordi had pulled the sleeve of his uniform down between his wrist and the cuff, but the heat was starting to burn through the material.

Examining the railing, Geordi pinpointed the area that he’d seen earlier. Its proximity to the source of the excessive radiation had weakened the structure considerably. There were clear signs of severe metal fatigue where the railing joined the upright. He checked again that he was at the weakest point and then he started to kick at the fracturing joint.

“Who authorised this, anyway?” he said, moving position a little. He couldn’t see Captain Picard or Commander Riker signing off on Data’s away-team-of-one, given the circumstances. 

“The Commander of the Watch,” Data replied.

“The Commander of the Watch?!” Geordi ceased kicking the handrail and turned slowly to his stricken partner. “You were the Commander of the Watch! You gave _yourself_ permission?”

Data couldn’t move, but he did raise his eyebrows. “It is the privilege of rank,” he said, infuriatingly calm.

Geordi’s temper flared. “Don’t you _dare_ try and get cute with me. Not here. Not now.”

“I am not attempting to be cute, merely state a fact.”

“Admit it,” Geordi said, his anger at what Data had done refuelling his attack on the handrail. He gave it an almighty kick and the whole side of the gantry juddered. “You screwed up coming here alone.”

“If we are ‘going to do this’, you have also screwed up. You came here alone too.”

“I came here to save you.”

“Inquiry. Was getting handcuffed to a gantry walkway part of your plan?”

“Bold of you to assume I had a plan,” said Geordi, responding to Data’s sass whilst doubling down on his attack. The sound of each kick echoed off the enclosed metal walls, the vibration running through the deck plates. 

“You did not have a plan?” Data asked, sounding perturbed.

“Over and above hoping he’d allow an exchange? Not really, no.” Geordi thought he’d felt something give and he took a few breaths of super-heated air and then slammed the sole of his boot into the fracturing joint.

“You came here with the express purpose of exchanging yourself for me?”

“Yeah.” Geordi was looking at the stressed metal, certain it was about to give way. “Come on!” he shouted, striking out with rage-filled, half-roundhouse which would have knocked Worf to his knees. A screech of metal made Geordi’s ears cringe and he felt the railing shudder.

He turned to see that he had finally busted it free. Geordi quickly slid the cuff off the rail and retreated from the blast furnace that was the radiation-drenched container. Even a few metres made a huge difference.

Geordi ran over the suspended gantry to the other side and knelt by Data. He could see the damage from the phaser blast was extensive and the overheating it had caused was potentially catastrophic.

“I’m going to have to drag you. I’ll be as gentle as I can, but we need to get out of here.”

Data nodded. Geordi rolled Data over and managed to get him sitting up and turned around so that his back was facing the door. Data lolled forward, his body slack and unmoving. Geordi got a good hold of him under his arms and started to drag his 100kg dead weight towards the door.

The heat was still horrendous and Geordi was sweating and panting by the time they got to the exit. Bryce had of course locked it, but Geordi was past the point where that mattered a damn. He ripped off the polycarbonate cover and threw it to the floor. He glanced at the connectors and yanked out the ones that controlled the locking mechanism. Sparks flew and the door sluggishly opened. Geordi dragged Data out into the corridor and the two of them collapsed against the wall, Data sprawled against his chest. He hit Data’s communicator.

“La Forge to _Enterprise_. Two to beam directly to Data’s lab.”

“Commander?” came the surprised reply from the duty chief. “I’m having trouble getting a lock. One second.”

They waited for the chief to cut through the radiation that was spewing out of the open door. As Data lay in his arms, Geordi ran his fingers over his lover’s face, over the damage that was evident there. The grid pattern from the over-heated deck plates had scorched themselves onto the side of Data’s face.

“It looks like you put your head in a waffle iron,” Geordi said, supressing a sudden urge to laugh hysterically.

He felt lightheaded and woozy and weak-kneed, even though he was sitting down.

“Geordi. Are you all right?” Data asked.

“I haven’t got the faintest idea, but I’m glad we’re not dead.”

“As— As— As—As am I,” Data stammered and his head fell heavily against Geordi’s shoulder.

“Data?” Geordi shook his lover, desperate for a response. “ _Data_?”

His yellow eyes stared unblinking up at Geordi, his pupils slowly contracting down to pinpoints. Geordi hit Data’s communicator again.

“Chief, get us out of here, _now!”_

*~*~*~*

Saturday, 21st November 2353 – San Francisco, Earth – 13 years previously

Her species may have evolved from a prey animal on the plains of Ceros, but when cornered and unable to flee, they would stand and fight.

Maya threw her head back and the elegant sweep of her antler buried itself in the jaw of one of her assailants. He yelled as she wrenched her head forward, tearing open the wound. As he let go of her arm, Maya formed a fist and smashed those plates of hard, polished keratin into the face of the other attacker. It broke their nose and smashed their teeth and in that fleeting second, she was free.

Out-numbered by those already inside the room and with Geordi and his sister incapacitated, Maya did the only thing she could – she ran. She fled out of the door and down that long empty corridor, crying out for help and for campus security. She knew they were spread thin, coping with the continued insanity that had followed Geordi’s victory.

Maya could hear them behind her – not close, but chasing her down and so she sprinted clear across the lobby into the mess hall and the huge throngs of people that were still celebrating.

Her clear panic and the blood dripping off her antler quickly convinced the jaded security officer on the door that she was serious. They commed for re-enforcements to transport directly to Geordi’s rooms as she and Maya ran back towards the annex. The two that had been chasing her were nowhere to be seen.

When they got there, Bryce and other two were already secured and being dragged away. Bryce and one of his accomplices were shouting and swearing, but Maya ignored these hateful words and dived inside. There were medical staff treating Geordi and Ariana.

“Are they all right? Are they going to be all right? Tell me. Tell me please!”

She knew she was in complete disarray but the words wouldn’t stop, they were spilling out of her in a jumbled mess.

“They’re taking good care of them,” the security officer said. “Try and calm down, you’re safe now and they’re going to be fine. They’ll be fine.”

“Emergency transport to Infirmary,” the medic nearest Geordi said.

“It’s just so they can get there quick,” said one of others at Maya’s horrified reaction. “With all the people still milling around.”

Moments after Geordi vanished, Ariana followed her brother and then the room was very empty and very quiet and Maya’s legs went from underneath her. The security officer caught her and set her down on the sofa.

Maya was shaking and for the first time she noticed her wrist hurt.

“Will they be okay?”

“I’m sure they’ll be fine. Are you? Your arm looks injured.”

“It hurts,” she said, the strange bend in her forearm making her feel sick.

“We’ve got someone on their way to check you over, they’ll be here soon. Can you tell me what happened? Nothing formal, just while it’s all fresh in your head, can you tell me what happened?”

Maya recounted how she had received a message from Bryce saying that Geordi wasn’t at all well and that she should come over right away. She had of course been desperate for news after they’d lost track of each other in the chaos of the celebrations. As soon as she’d got the message, hours after it was sent, Maya went directly to the annex.

She had walked past two guys who were at the end of the corridor, only realising too late that they were directly behind her. Her concern for Geordi had swamped her instinct that something wasn’t right. A second later her arms had been grabbed and twisted behind her back. She had shouted and struggled but they had been able to drag her down towards the dorm rooms.

Seeing Geordi fitting on the floor had terrified her and she had screamed his name before managing to injure her assailants and fight her way free.

More medical staff arrived and began to treat her arm. She had a fractured wrist and broken knuckles. Maya felt a grim sort of satisfaction that she’d hit one of them hard enough to break her hand.

“Where have Geordi and his sister been taken?”

“They’ll be at the campus infirmary and we need to take you there too. Are you are okay to transport over now?”

“Do you know how they are?”

“I don’t. Let’s get you sorted out first, okay? They’re in great hands.”

Once Maya had her injury fully assessed and treated, she spent several hours waiting, sick to her stomach, desperate for news. Security had taken a more formal statement whilst Maya waited and had left a liaison officer with her. They had been very kind but Maya could tell they were shocked by her account.

She was allowed to see Ariana first and Geordi’s sister was asleep. Her hair was swept to the side and lay over one shoulder, and her breathing was slow and regular.

Maya hovered awkwardly by her bed. She was not a relative or close friend and they had only met the day before, but Maya had felt, as she had with Geordi, an instant acceptance and warmth. She decided to stay and so pulled a chair closer to the bed. After a further moment’s hesitation, she took Ariana’s hand in hers.

Curled in the chair, it was nearly one am when Maya realised there was someone gently shaking her.

“I know it’s late,” the nurse was saying, “but Geordi is awake and asking for you.”

Maya left the still-sleeping Ariana and stumbled after the nurse, pins and needles tingling in her long legs.

Geordi’s room was brightly lit and he lay under sparkling covers.

“Is that you?” he asked, unable to see without his VISOR. And then he was reaching out his hand.

“It’s me,” Maya said, grasping his fingers tightly in hers as her tears started to flow.

“Are you okay?” he said, his voice roughened and weak. “Is Ari? Is she here?”

“We’re all right, I’m all right. I’ve been with her, Ariana is resting.”

“They didn’t hurt you?” He was searching her face, his gaze slightly offset.

“No, no my _ällis-ling_. I hurt them. I knocked out some teeth.”

“You knocked out teeth?” An exhausted smiled ghosted Geordi’s face. His free hand found her hair and pulled her into an embrace.

She rested her heavy forehead on Geordi’s, her relief at seeing him tempered horribly by how ill he looked.

“What did they do to you?” she murmured, tracing a fingertip over the lights at his temples. Something about them seemed off to her.

“Bryce made me a little present. It burned out my implants’ pre-processors. I can’t wear my VISOR for now.”

“He made something that blinded you?” Maya said, appalled.

“For now,” said Geordi. “It’s only temporary. Did you manage to talk to Ari? Is she okay?”

“She was sleeping all the while I was with her. They wouldn’t tell me about her condition, I’m not her family.”

Geordi nodded. “Thank you for being with her. I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry you both got dragged into this.”

He turned his head away, but Maya didn’t want to let him. She held him closer, tighter, not wanting to ever let him go.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The remainder of the story will deal with violent, disturbing sexual themes and their aftermath, so please don't read on if the subject matter will cause distress.

Stardate 43616.4 – Elnar System, Chi Persei Cluster – Present Day

Barking instructions at the computer, Geordi laid Data on the floor of the lab. 

“Twenty thermo-rated cold packs, two degrees Celsius, non-condensate covering.”

He swept the bundles into his arms and dived to his knees beside Data. Cracking open the seam on Data’s forehead, Geordi removed the entirely of his scalp. With his positronic brain fully exposed, the silver-strung wires of his skull glittered. But the lights that studded its surface no longer danced among them in elegant concert. Instead they flickered in strange, disjointed patterns. Geordi could see that the underlying activity in Data’s brain had crashed and his electromagnetic glow was now a weak layer of silver-gold that clung to him like a shroud. He lifted Data’s head and made a pillow of the cold packs, packing them around his head until his neural net was encased in bags of cooling gel. 

“Fabric cutter,” Geordi ordered. He grabbed the laser cutter from the replicator and sliced off Data’s uniform and undershirt. “Drop the temperature in the lab to zero degrees Celsius.”

The heat baking off Data would keep the chill from Geordi’s fingers as he worked. Again, there was no time for panels or access ports and Geordi removed Data’s whole breastplate. The heat hit him as the cover came off and he crammed Data’s chest and abdominal cavities with the remaining cold packs.

“Computer, I want a readout of the temperature of Data’s positronic net and his coolant, every ten seconds. Start now.”

_“Positronic net, one hundred twenty-six degrees Celsius. Coolant, one hundred fifty-two degrees Celsius.”_

Geordi swore under his breath. He’d been able to see the temperature was borderline, but Data’s coolant would have begun to coagulate at about one forty-five. The cold packs were an emergency stop-gap until Data’s coolant cooled enough that it could be drained and his system transfused with fresh, chilled fluids.

_“Positronic net, one hundred nineteen degrees Celsius. Coolant, one hundred forty-four degrees Celsius.”_

With his spinal cord severed and his brain in shutdown, the pump and fans were silent and still inside Data’s body. As the coolant slowly returned to a liquid state, Geordi needed to be ready to syphon it off and replace it as soon as he was able. While Data’s temperature came down further, he started ordering the next batch of equipment.

“One coolant pump, pressure rated to 1.5 bar equivalent. Six litres of isotropic coolant, ten degrees Celsius. Three lengths of two metre tubing, half a centimetre diameter, universal couplings. One pair of standard heat-resistant gloves. Metal cutter.”

_“Positronic net, one hundred twelve degrees Celsius. Coolant, one hundred twenty-eight degrees Celsius.”_

Geordi used the metal cutter to break off the handcuff that still dangled from his wrist. The moment if was off he slung it across the desk and started rigging the fresh bag of coolant over the exam table. He linked it to the pump, trailing the other piece of tubing onto the table top, ready to plug it into Data once he was able.

He lurched out into the corridor, intending to grab whoever was passing to help him get Data onto the table, and nearly crashed into Commander Riker and Worf who were barrelling towards the lab.

“Geordi,” Riker said, “what the hell is going on?”

They’d clearly been roused from their beds, but they were both in uniform and, very pointedly, on duty.

“Bryce tried to kill Data,” said Geordi, immediately turning back into the lab. “I need to get him on the table.”

Not questioning further, Riker and Worf followed him in. They were clearly shocked by Data’s dismantled state, but swiftly buried their concerns. The three of them lifted Data onto the table, leaving a pile of cold packs on the floor.

_“Positronic net, one hundred four degrees Celsius. Coolant, one hundred seventeen degrees Celsius.”_

“Worf,” Riker ordered, “take O’Connor into custody and wake the Captain.”

“Aye, sir.”

Worf left the lab as Geordi prepared to drain the hot, viscous fluid from Data’s body. Pulling on the gloves, he winced as the fabric dragged over the burns and blisters on his right hand. He syphoned the still-scalding coolant into a bucket and hooked Data into the new supply. He started up the external pump and watched as it began to push cold fluid around Data’s internal systems. It immediately began to pull down his temperature. Geordi connected Data’s fans to an external power supply and started them running. In the cold of the lab, with coolant flowing and fans now whirling, Data’s temperature was, for the first time, down below one hundred degrees.

_“Positronic net, eighty-three degrees Celsius. Coolant, fourteen degrees Celsius.”_

“Computer,” Geordi said, “discontinue readout on coolant temperature.”

He leaned over Data and took his hand, even though he wouldn’t be able to feel it. Geordi was staring deep into his exposed cranium, desperately searching for some sign that he was regaining consciousness. He could see the heat slowly being drawn away from that astonishing collection of programming and processors, an arrangement of wires and ceramic and metal that could somehow conjure a soul. Data’s eyes remained open, his pupils stopped down: two blank, yellow discs staring sightlessly at the ceiling.

“Come on,” Geordi whispered, his breath misting out over Data’s motionless body. “Come on, Data please. _Please_.”

_“Positronic net, seventy degrees Celsius.”_

And then Geordi saw a flicker, deep in Data’s brain. Within the shielded core of his central processor, a mass of positrons had just jumped an energy level.

Data was performing a master reset.

The spark began to pulse and Geordi watched as that pulse spread outward, resetting the disorder with wave after wave of controlled, focused power. 

“That’s it! Come on,” Geordi urged. “Come on, keep it going, keep it going.”

Positrons streamed through billions of synapses, chaos being tamed into order as gateways shuttled terabytes of information across his brain in milliseconds.

Data’s irises spiralled open and he blinked once.

“Data?” Geordi said, hardly daring to breathe.

“Y-y-e-s.” Data’s eyes defocused. “M-m-m-o-m-e-n-t.”

The relief was massive, nearly enough to make Geordi swoon to his knees. 

“Take all the time you need. Don’t rush it. You’re okay, we’re on the Enterprise. You’ll be okay.”

“Y-y-e-s.”

_“Positronic net, fifty-eight degrees Celsius.”_

“I’m going to connect your primary access port to the computer, okay?” Geordi said.

Now that Data was cooled enough to elicit an output, he wanted to see the raw numbers that would prove what he could see and hear and had hoped – that Data was cognitively undamaged by his encounter with Bryce.

“O-k-a-y.”

“Why isn’t he talking properly?” Riker asked, his presence a hovering blob of concern at the edge of Geordi’s vision.

“You’re having to start your systems from scratch, aren’t you?” Geordi answered as he pushed a cable into the circular port in Data’s head, linking him into the lab’s computer.

“R-e-b-o-o-t . D-a-m-a-g-e. M-i-t-i-g-a-t-i-o-n. P-r-o-t-o-c-o-l.”

“Data won’t have full access to his systems until he completes the reboot. For him, emergency shut down… it’s kind of like us coming out of stasis. It’ll take a few minutes for you to get your bearings, won’t it?”

“Yes,” said Data, and that single, clearly spoken word made Geordi grin from ear to ear. 

He squeezed Data’s hand before he let go and turned his attention to the outpouring of data from Data. The computer screen was scrolling at a dizzying speed as Data’s multiple systems switched on and confirmed they were functional.

“The numbers look good, Data,” Geordi reported. “How do you feel?”

“Better, thank you for asking.”

Geordi beamed at Riker, who was smiling grimly back at him. It was glorious to hear him speaking, but the reality of why they were both here, why Data was in pieces and needed tubes and external power to function was hanging over them all.

Between the two of them, Geordi and Data ran a battery of diagnostics on his positronic net, whilst they filled Riker in on what had transpired. Captain Picard stopped by briefly to offer his support and to bring them the miserable news that Bryce had escaped.

Geordi tried to put that news out of his head. Bryce was gone and there was nothing he could do about that now. Data was safe but he was in dire need of Geordi’s attention. He needed to focus completely on Data and now that his cognitive functions had been checked and confirmed, Geordi could turn his attention to physical problems. He detached the cable from his skull and refitted Data’s scalp. As he smoothed down his usually immaculate hair into a semblance of order, it became a series of gentle strokes as he looked into Data’s eyes. He was still completely paralysed and had his chest open to the air of the lab.

“I’m going to fix you,” Geordi said softly. “I promise.”

“Thank you, Geordi.”

“I’m going to start with your coolant pump, okay? It seized when your coolant coagulated so I need to strip it down for a full service, okay?”

“I believe something else requires more immediate attention.”

“What?” Geordi started to mentally rack through the list in his head. He needed to get Data’s chest closed up before he could even think about working on his spinal injury.

“You require medical attention,” Data said.

Geordi sighed in relief. Was that all? “That can wait, I need to get you closed up.”

“You are incorrect. Your injuries are non-trivial and you will require treatment for radiation exposure.”

“I’m fine.”

“You need to go to Sickbay.”

“I don’t want to leave you.”

“Data’s right,” Riker said. “If he’s stable now, you need to go to Sickbay.”

“I don’t want to leave him in this state.”

“I am currently functioning in an acceptable capacity. I do not anticipate further issues given I have been removed from the source of them.”

Geordi looked between his stricken partner and his superior officer, knowing he was beaten. But still he still didn’t move, deeply reluctant to delay Data’s repairs for even a few minutes.

“Geordi,” Riker said, gently. “Sickbay. Now. I’ll stay with him.”

“I’ll be back as soon as I can,” he whispered into Data’s ear. “I love you.”

“I know,” said Data. “Please do not delay your treatment further.”

A kiss that lasted long seconds followed and then Geordi tore himself away. He was already making plans for how he was going to tackle the immense issue of Data’s paralysis. And underneath it all was Bryce, his escape worming its way into Geordi’s worry like some kind of parasite.

*~*~*~*

Monday, 23rd November 2353 – San Francisco, Earth – 13 years previously

“Formal interview with Cadet Bryce Leyton O’Connor. Those also present are myself, lead investigator Lt Commander Jean Harper, my second, Lieutenant Soraya El’baz and counsel for Cadet O’Connor, Lt Carey Georgiou. The time is 0947 hours on 23rd November 2353. Cadet O’Connor, you are under caution that this interview is being recorded and anything that you say maybe used against you in future legal proceedings. Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir,” O’Connor said.

“You have been appointed legal representation. You are aware that you may request a recess to discuss any matters arising with said counsel in private?”

“Yes, sir,” O’Connor said again.

“With those formalities out of the way, do you wish to make any statement before we begin?”

“This is all a huge misunderstanding,” Cadet O’Connor said, leaning forward, concern written across his face. “I know things got a little out of hand, but everyone was partying really hard and no one was meant to get hurt.”

Harper made a few notes and nodded, wanting to encourage the Cadet. If he wanted to talk, she was more than happy to let him.

“It was supposed to be a good time,” he went on. “You know? A celebration?”

“I can understand that. Okay, so firstly, can you tell me how it was that you met up with Ariana La Forge?”

“I already told the other investigator.”

“I know, Cadet, but that was an initial fact-finding interview. Can you answer the question please?”

“Geordi asked me to find her – she hadn’t been to San Fran before and she’d got lost in all the crazy. I went to her hotel and when she got back, I waved her over and that’s how I met up with her.”

“Cadet La Forge says he had no such conversation with you.”

“What? Why is he saying that? How would I know where she was staying if he didn’t tell me?”

“There are possibilities,” Lt El’baz said.

“He’s not remembering this right,” O’Connor said firmly. “He was pretty drunk. On real alcohol.”

“We’re aware of the traditions, Mr O’Connor,” Harper said. “When and where did this conversation take place?”

“In the bar. In McMahon’s. We were planning to head back to our dorm and have a party there, so I went and found her and fetched her back to ours.”

“When you met up with Ms La Forge, what happened then?”

“It was really busy on the transporters, so we had a drink in the hotel bar and, you know, we hit it off and one thing lead to another.”

“When you arrived back, you had sexual relations with Ms La Forge in your dorm room?”

“Yeah.”

“Consensual?”

“Of course consensual! What the f— What has she been saying?”

“Ms La Forge has very few memories of the events of Friday night and into Saturday. Would you have any insight into why that might be?”

“You don’t have to answer that,” Lt Georgiou said.

“She’d been drinking and I don’t know, maybe she took something before I met up with her.”

“Did she appear incapacitated or intoxicated whilst you were with her?”

Cadet O’Connor paused, sensing a trap, and considered his answer. “No, she seemed fine.”

“Fully in command of her faculties and able to consent to sexual relations?”

“Yes.”

“Did Ms La Forge also consent to your relations being filmed?”

O’Connor’s expression hardened. “Yeah, it was her idea actually.”

Harper exchanged a glance with El’baz.

“That’s interesting, because that wasn’t the only recording of sexual activity that we found.”

“So?”

“How did that topic arise? For example, did she directly say, ‘Please film us having sex,’?”

“Not in so many words.”

“In how many words, Cadet? I’d like you to try to recall her exact words.”

“I don’t know. I can’t remember. It just came about that’s what she was into.”

“There were several recordings recovered of your various sexual encounters. It would seem this was not your first time in the spotlight, so to speak.”

“Your point being?”

“That the recording was for your gratification and I put it to you that it was done without Ms La Forge’s knowledge or consent.”

“We got talking about it and… and she seemed into it.”

“So it wasn’t her idea.”

“Depends how you look at it.”

“How did the other recordings come about?”

“The same way.”

“All the people on the recordings gave their full, informed consent?”

“Yeah.”

“We have also been able to recover a deleted folder from your personal drive.”

O’Connor became very, very still and something deep in his eyes shifted.

“There were more than a hundred hours of recordings. From the content, it is clear that the subject has no idea that there is a motion-activated camera in their room. When we searched the room, we recovered this.”

Harper reached under the desk and placed a small cylindrical camera on the table.

O’Connor looked at it for a few seconds. “Geordi asked me to put it in,” he said eventually.

“The camera was in a passive shield casing.” Harper paused, waiting for a response from O’Connor. When none was forthcoming, she continued. “If Cadet La Forge had requested that it be installed, why would it need to be hidden from his unique vision?”

“It came with the camera.”

“Another point,” Harper said. “If this was installed at Cadet La Forge’s request, why were the files saved to your hard drive and not his?”

A micro-expression flickered over O’Connor’s face, a split second of anger and frustration breaking through before he was able to supress it.

“As a favour,” O’Connor said.

“I’m not sure I follow,” Harper responded.

“It was a favour for a friend. Or haven’t you got any of those?”

Harper made some more notes and saw Soraya doing likewise. Getting jabbed with these little spikes of O’Connor’s annoyance was an excellent sign that they were getting to him. That he liked the sound of his own voice was also a big plus and Harper suspected that was going to pay dividends as the interview played out.

“Moving on to the following day. This is your message to Cadet Yazreen regarding Cadet La Forge’s state of health. Computer, play recording SE1483.”

_ Hey Maya. It’s Bryce. Can you come over as soon as you get this? Geordi’s been asking for you. He’s in a bit of a state and I think he’s sick or something. Just come as soon as you can. _

“Voice only,” said Harper. “Was there a reason for that?”

“Keeping down the bandwidth.”

“The difference would have been negligible.”

“In your opinion.”

“Cadet La Forge was at an all-night house party in Old Town. There are seventeen witnesses which place him there until at least 1400 hours on Saturday afternoon. Your rather urgent-sounding message to Cadet Yazreen is timed at 1028 on Saturday morning. Three and a half hours _before_ Cadet La Forge arrived back. How do you account for that discrepancy?”

O’Connor shrugged. “Pre-emptive. I knew he was going to come back wrecked and it would take ages for the message to get through.”

“I suggest that you used voice only to call Cadet Yazreen because Cadet La Forge’s absence could have scuppered your plan to lure her to your dorm.”

“I wasn’t luring anybody,” O’Connor said forcefully. “I was arranging a party. Wanting to have people over and have a good time and celebrate. I don’t get why this happening. It’s all getting blown up out of all proportion. I know it got a bit wild, but the whole city was off its head.”

“With regards to having people over, the Norsicans and the Kirelli. Can you enlighten me as to your relationship with them?”

“They’re just people I know.”

“How? Where from?”

“I don’t know. Around.”

“A box of twenty bars of gold-pressed latinum were found in your dorm. Worth about twenty-five thousand credits. It’s highly unusual for that much hard cash to be in anyone’s possession, least of all a Starfleet Cadet. Can you explain its presence and the fact that there is a substantial amount of Norsican DNA on the bars and on the box?”

O’Connor ran a hand over his mouth. “They owed me some money.”

“That’s a lot of money to be owed. What were the circumstances?”

“How is this any of your business? This is bullshit.”

Harper noted his most overt display of frustration was centred around the money. She decided to press a little harder.

“A serious incident has taken place. Any and all related events are within the remit of my investigation. We have information that this was a pay-off for a bet, placed on the outcome of the first year cadets’ moon run.”

“What if it was?”

“Gambling is a regulated activity, with strict limits and registers of operators. Your associates are not on the list of approved operators.”

“Everyone bets on the Eight-Ball off the books.”

“Bottles of wine or a dinner, perhaps. A few credits between friends. This is orders of magnitude beyond that.”

“Is it going to be confiscated?” O’Connor asked, sounding agitated at the prospect.

“If you are not able to prove it was gained from a legitimate source, it will be, yes.”

“For fuck’s sake,” O’Connor muttered.

“Cadet La Forge says that you made sexual threats against him, his sister and Cadet Yazreen. What do you say to that allegation?”

“I’d say he was tripping on something, because that is a load of crap.”

“There were physical injuries to Cadets La Forge and Yazreen consistent with being restrained.”

“I don’t know what they’d been up to or where they’d been before. Could have happened anywhere. She’s the one who was inflicting injuries. Mad bitch.”

Lt Georgiou leaned over and whispered in O’Connor’s ear, no doubt advising him that kind of language would be unhelpful in his case. He had, however, inadvertently given Harper an opening. Again pulling an exhibit from under the desk, she placed a small flattened cube on the table between them.

“I am showing Cadet O’Connor exhibit SE1401. Can you explain what this is?”

“It’s my engineering project.”

“What does it do?”

“It’s an optical emitter.”

“It’s a little more than that, isn’t it?”

“If you say so.”

“Why does it have a multi-phasic power cell?

“I wanted to see how much power I could pack into it.”

“And how much was that?”

O’Connor levelled his gaze at Harper. “Quite a lot.”

He was clearly very proud of his creation and he was trying to keep a smirk off his face. It was a neat technical solution that he’d found, not unique by any means, but it was a tidy piece of work for a first year cadet.

“What our engineers found interesting was how you’d managed to get the pulse to emit the entire EM spectrum. Only for a fraction of a second, but still. Impressive.”

There was no response from O’Connor.

“I’m less interested in how you built it, rather, I’d like to know why? Why this particular item, when you had a choice of projects?”

O’Connor shrugged again, arrogantly holding Harper’s eyes. If it was meant to be discomforting to be pinned by the coolness of his gaze, Jean remained unfazed.

“There were some interesting schematics found on your personal hard drive,” she said. “You were interested in your roommate’s prosthesis.”

“It’s an unusual thing. A cool piece of kit. I was interested in how it worked.”

“Was there any connection between your design of this item and those schematics we found?”

“No.”

“So this wasn’t made with Cadet La Forge in mind?”

“No.”

“You clearly knew how his VISOR worked and you had designed this cube to deliver a powerful, focused, EM-wide visual pulse, are you suggesting that this is a coincidence?”

“Yeah, or it was in the back of my mind, like a subconscious thing.”

“What led to you decide to fire off the device at Cadet La Forge?” 

“Just as a joke. It was meant to be like _pow,_ but just for a second.”

“Did you design the cube to intentionally incapacitate Cadet La Forge?”

“I had no idea that would happen. It was supposed to be a joke, just to dazzle him for a sec. It was a spur of the moment thing.”

Harper and El’baz continued with their questioning for the rest of the morning, then concluded the interview a little before 1300 hours.

After O’Connor had been taken back to the holding cell and his legal representative had left, Jean and Soraya decamped to their office on the third floor, grabbing lunch from the replicator.

“He is one of the most unsettling and dangerous people I think I’ve ever met,” said Soraya, pushing her lunch around the bowl.

She wasn’t someone prone to hyperbole and it made Jean look up from her computer.

“I can’t say I disagree,” Jean said. “I want to know why psych didn’t pick this guy out and paste a big, red flag on his head.”

“It’s a huge concern that they missed him.”

Jean’s computer beeped. “Ariana La Forge has been released from the infirmary. We’ll see if we can’t get to speak with her again tomorrow, see if anything has come back to her.”

“Is there any news on her brother?”

“They’re keeping him in for the moment, so we’ll need to schedule a meeting at the hospital to put O’Connor’s refutations to him. The cadets don’t know about the video of them yet, do they?”

Soraya shook her head. “No, they don’t.”

Jean sighed loudly. “That is going to be a horrible, horrible conversation.”

“I’ll liaise with their security detail and their counselor and arrange a suitable time and place.”

“Have we had any luck in tracking down any of the other people in O’Connor’s collection?”

“They’ve been running some facial and vocal recog. software, but I’ve not had the results yet.”

"And the Norsicans and Kirelli are still 'no comment'?"

"Yes, and I can't see that changing. I understand that the Norsicans have made a formal request for their case to be referred back to the homeworld for prosecution. The Kirelli attaché is also making noises for an off-world mediation in their case."

"Shit."

Without formal relations with either government, Jean had known keeping the two non-aligned races on Earth for prosecution would be tough, but had hoped they'd have been able to hold onto them somehow. That now seemed increasingly unlikely. So they would need to focus all their energy on the one suspect they could hold onto.

“I don’t care how slippery O’Connor is," Harper said, "or how cocky, I want to make sure we nail down every single charge possible. I want this guy to go away for a very, very long time.”

Bryce was kicking back on his bunk, trying to look unconcerned. In reality, he was furious and afraid.

Blinky’s mad bitch of a girlfriend had fucked _everything_ by freaking out. Now he was in the deepest of deep shit and the whole fucking campus was probably talking about what happened.

The whole point of it was that they’d wake up on Monday none the worse and none the wiser. Now Monday was here and he was staring down the barrel of some serious fucking charges, especially with La Forge still in hospital. How was Bryce supposed to know his cube would do what it did? He knew it would knock him sideways, but it wasn’t supposed to fuck him up like it had. 

No way was all this his fault and no way was he going to go down without a fight.


End file.
